


In The Land of Toil and Tears

by ViewFromTheVault



Series: The Woman Out of Time [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, everything is bigger than in game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViewFromTheVault/pseuds/ViewFromTheVault
Summary: The last time Hancock saw her, Phoebe Spencer was on a mission to find her missing son. When she shows up in Goodneighbor looking a little worse for wear asking if he's interested in travelling with her, one begs to ask where her quest had taken her and if she wasn't running from something.





	1. Doors Opened and Doors Left Behind

“What the fuck was that?”

Phoebe scurried to the other end of the alley and hid around the corner. She tried to keep her breathing even as her hands fumbled to pull the ten millimetre from its holster. As soon as the gun was loaded, she chanced a peek. Three raiders stood around the trash can she had knocked over just moments before.

“Guess it was nothing,” the tallest raider said as he leaned on his pool cue and scratched at his crotch.

“C’mon, you really think ‘nothing’ made all that fucking noise?” the second raider said, refusing to lower her rifle.

“Maybe it was a roach?” said the third. A boy no older than seventeen, face dappled with pimples. He looked up at the surrounding walls hopefully.

 “See? Nothing, just like I said.” The hand migrated from his groin to burrow a pinky finger in his ear.

“Bullshit.” The second raider turned her head in Phoebe’s direction and she ducked back behind the wall. She held her breath and brought the gun up as the crunching of broken glass underfoot came closer. Her hands shook. She wasn’t emotionally ready to fight, then again she never really was. Only this time it felt worse.

The tip of a gun barrel slid into view and she tensed.

“Knock it off, will ya?” The voice of the taller raider halted the gun’s movement. “Whatever it was is probably gone now, so there ain’t no point in looking for it.”

There was hesitation before the barrel finally lowered as the woman swore and stomped away from Phoebe’s hiding place. She heard a scuffle along with the sound of someone hitting the ground and a wooden clatter. The tall raider hollered and the teenager erupted in shrill giggles and snorts. The woman raider must have kicked the pool cue out from under him.

“The fuck was that for?”

“For being a fucking idiot!”

Phoebe waited until the laughter and squabbling long faded before she risked another look around the corner. Empty. She let out a breath and crept back down the alleyway, being sure to avoid the garbage can this time, taking one more peek and crossing the street into another alley. She squatted beside a dumpster and brought up the map on her Pip-Boy. Goodneighbor was only a block away.

She still couldn’t understand why it was there she wanted to go. She could have just gone to the Railroad headquarters when she passed the secret entrance. She could go further to the detective agency in Diamond City, or even further to Sanctuary. But no, this was where she felt she needed to be. Anything was better than going back to that place. She couldn’t bear going back.

The glow from the town’s neon sign appeared as she climbed over the rubble built up next to the Old Corner Bookstore. Relief washed over her like a wave in a gentle breeze. She slid from the roof of the old city bus and her legs collapsed under her. She landed on all fours and hissed as dirt and debris dug into her bare hands.

Her legs quivered as she tried to stand and she realized she must have been running for far longer than she thought. How long had she been going for? A few hours? Days? She couldn’t remember. All that had mattered was that as much distance was put between her and Libertalia as possible. Phoebe staggered to her feet and leaned on the side of the bus for support. It was as if her entire body had been turned to lead. Whatever adrenaline she had in her system had run its course and fatigue was catching up to her.

_Just a little further, you’re almost there._

She trudged toward the door and swung it open, refusing to relax until she was safe on the other side. As relatively safe as one could be in Goodneighbor, that is.

Despite the afternoon sinking into the evening, the town was still a buzz. People loitered around storefronts and begged travellers for handouts as street lights flickered to life, casting an eerie glow upon the streets and buildings. Shadows pulled at facial features turning the square into an impish masquerade.

A glimpse of red caught her eye. Leaning against the side of the statehouse talking to his second in command was Mayor Hancock. A mask of light and shadow from the lamp above him veiled his face as well. Phoebe’s nerves awoke as her stomach tied in knots. She was suddenly very aware of how unprepared she was for the conversation about to be had. Her hands balled into fists. No, there was no turning back now, she didn’t come all this way just to give up at the home stretch.

Willing her feet to move, she crossed the busy square toward the two figures. Fahrenheit noticed her first and said, “Well, if it isn’t our little Pawn.”

Hancock followed her gaze and pushed off the wall. “Hey there, sister,” he said, face pulling into a grin. “Been a while since I last saw you darken my doorstep. Where’s our old friend, Grognak?”

Phoebe blushed at the mention of her brief stint as the Silver Shroud. As much fun as she had living one of her childhood dreams, she was a bit embarrassed Hancock knew it was her under the hat. “MacCready’s been living at Sanctuary Hills for the last while,” she said.

“That so? Good for him. ‘Bout time he quit lookin’ for trouble…” his voice trailed off as she stepped further into the lamplight. “Jesus, you look like you’ve been dragged through hell and back!”

Phoebe rubbed her forearm sheepishly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.” He stepped closer to examine the sorry state she was in and she looked anywhere but at him. It had never dawned on her that she’d look the same way she felt. She shook the self-conscious thoughts from her mind. She was here for a reason. “Are you still interested in travelling together?” she blurted.

Hancock blinked. “You serious? You look like you’re ready to drop. Travelling oughta be the least of your concern.”

Phoebe’s brow furrowed in worry. _Was that a no?_

“C’mon, let’s get you fixed up,” he said, taking her gently by the elbow. After asking Fahrenheit to keep watch, Hancock lead Phoebe into the statehouse and up the spiral staircase. Her leg muscles ached and it felt as though her feet were encased in concrete as she clomped up the steps. He directed her to the bathroom so she could freshen up while he got her something to eat.

Alone in the bathroom, she looked in the mirror and jumped. Her face was caked with dirt and blood from scrapes and most of her hair had fallen from the bun she typically wore. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and her clothing filthy under her battered combat armour. No wonder Hancock was so concerned, she looked awful.

She dropped her backpack, left her clothes and armour in a heap on the floor and climbed into the clawfoot bathtub. She turned the faucet labelled _H_ and shrieked as ice-cold water fell from the showerhead and shocked her to the bone. Fiddling with the knobs until the water was at least lukewarm, she tried to scrub away all evidence of the past few days. The dirt washed out, but the troubled thoughts remained like ugly stains upon her mind that no amount of soap and water could remove.

Phoebe shut off the water and climbed out of the tub to towel off. She pulled on a wool sweater and cotton pants, rolled up her dirty clothes and stashed them in her backpack to wash later. She fished out a hairbrush and worked it through the knots in her hair, leaving it down to dry. Gathering up her backpack and armour in her arms, she left the bathroom and was met with the delicious smell of meat cooking.

The aroma led her into Hancock’s kitchen and living area. Hancock had abandoned his coat on the back of a couch and stood in front of the stove with his shirtsleeves rolled up.

Phoebe just sat there and stared. There was something about watching him cook in his dress shirt that she found captivating and almost amusing as he still had his tricorn hat proudly perched on his head. Hancock the culinary pirate. She held back a giggle that immediately died as the ghoul looked back at her from his cooking and smiled. “There she is, feeling any better?”

Her cheeks glowed red in embarrassment at being caught watching him. She smiled back and raised her shoulders. “A bit.”

“Well you definitely look in better shape,” he said before turning back to the stove “Gettin’ some food in ya oughta help. You can set your stuff anywhere, don’t gotta worry about anyone stealing anything in here.”

Phoebe nodded and set her things on an ottoman next to one of the two couches that made up the centre of the room. She looked about the room awkwardly, not sure what she should be doing. She noticed the collection of chems that usually littered the coffee table was cleared away. Had he gotten rid of them while she was in the bathroom?

“Pop a squat, sister, food’s almost done,” said Hancock.

She silently obeyed him and sank into the red leather sofa. It made a noise almost like it was sighing and bits of stuffing popped through a tear in the cushion. Hancock came over to her as she poked it back in and handed her a plate. Piled onto it was a piece of brahmin steak and slices of peppered fried potatoes that glistened with brahmin butter. Her stomach began a symphony of groans and grumbles, she suddenly felt like she hadn’t eaten anything in years.

“Sorry it’s just leftovers,” Hancock said as he sat on the adjacent couch. “I figured it’d be a better idea to heat somethin’ up real quick instead of havin’ to wait for a full course meal.”

Right now, that didn’t bother Phoebe in the slightest. If he hadn’t have given her utensils she would’ve just started eating with her bare hands. She shovelled potato into her mouth until it was almost too full for her to chew. Swallowing it down and sawing off a piece of steak, she hummed out loud as the juicy meat met her taste buds. If her mother were to see her eating like this, she’d chastise her for behaving like a pig.

Hancock slid a Nuka-Cherry across the coffee table and she was pleasantly surprised to find it chilled as she held it in her hands. He passed her a bottle opener and she cracked it open, taking a huge gulp. She wasn’t typically a fan of cherry cola, especially when the carbonation had long since fizzled out, but at that moment, it tasted so good it almost brought tears to her eyes.

Phoebe held the bottle cap out to him, but he shook his head and told her to keep it. She would have argued with him that he have it, but her hunger wasn’t satisfied enough to talk so she just pocketed the cap. She could leave it somewhere for him to find later. Hancock sat patiently drinking his own Nuka-Cola, waiting for her to be finished before bombarding her with questions.

Phoebe had put the last piece of steak in her mouth and moved the plate to the coffee table when he finally asked, “So how in the hell did you end up in that sorry state anyway?”

Phoebe sagged back into the couch and swallowed, the lump of meat didn’t go down as smoothly as the rest had. She took a drink and cleared her throat, trying to think of what to say. “Dealing with a raider camp out by Nahant.” She settled for part of the truth.

Hancock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Wait, you ain’t talking Libertalia, are you? Big settlement built over water, ass end of a ship sticking straight up, chock full of raiders?”

Phoebe nodded.

Hancock fell back in his seat. “You ain’t pulling my leg? Tell me you didn’t take that place on by yourself.”

“Oh no, I had help.”

“You end up being the only one left or something?”

“No, the person who helped me went their own way.”

“So only _two_ of you went toe to toe with that place?”

Phoebe nervously sipped at her cola. How could she explain that she was working with an Institute courser? _Should she_ say he was a courser? A voice in her head said it’d be best for him to not know that detail. “Yes, he was a… _really_ skilled mercenary,” she fibbed. “Look, I know you have questions, but that place was… a lot to handle. I’d rather not talk about it if that’s okay.”

Hancock nodded. “Sure, sure I understand,” he said. She could see that he still had questions, but he didn’t prod her any further. She was thankful for that.

“So,” she began, fiddling with the label on the cola bottle. “About us travelling together, would you still be interested?” She looked up at him hopefully.

He flashed her a smile that made her face warm and butterfly wings tickle her stomach. “You even gotta ask that? Damn right I am.”

Phoebe couldn’t keep the elation from showing on her face. “Really? That's, that’s great! I mean that’s… great.” _Gosh, quit tripping over your words like a dope._

“So, there any place we’re going in particular, or are we just gonna see where life takes us?” Hancock asked. “Because I’m down for either.”

Phoebe tapped a finger on the coke bottle thoughtfully before setting it on the coffee table and reaching for her backpack. She rifled out her Pip-Boy and powered on the screen, flipping through her notes. The cursor landed on an entry that was a little over a week old titled “Special Delivery.”

“How about doing some work for the Cabot family?” she asked.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, “always wondered what that crew was up to anyway. With all the mercs they hire and the big-time security they got around their place.”

“Alright,” Phoebe said, “tomorrow we head to the Cabot house.” She yawned as she powered off her Pip-Boy and replaced it in her backpack. Her eyelids suddenly felt heavy and she palmed them to keep them open.

“But first I think you need some much-needed rest,” Hancock said standing up.

Phoebe pushed herself from the sofa. “Yeah, I should get out of your hair and see if there’s a room open at the hotel.”

“Nah, you don’t gotta spend your caps at that hell hole. I’ll set ya up on the couch,” he flourished his hands, “free of charge.”

“Oh, no it’s fine, really,” Phoebe insisted, “it’s only ten caps. Besides I you’ve done enough for me already. I don’t want to be a bother.”

Hancock laughed. “Sister, you couldn’t bother me even if you tried. Besides, I clean up after myself. You’re way less likely to get poked by a dirty syringe on my couch than in the Rex’s luxury suite.”

Phoebe chewed on her lip. He wasn’t wrong about the Hotel Rexford’s cleaning habits. The past few times she had stayed there the quality of the rooms was less than ideal. “Well, alright. If you’re really okay with it,” she said at last.

“Right then,” he said. He clapped his hands and walked to the room across the landing, returning with a pillow and a bundle of blankets. As he set to work making a bed on the red couch Phoebe had just been sitting on, she gathered up her dirty dishes and insisted she wash them for him. Once she had finished, she fished out her pyjamas and toothbrush from her backpack and returned to the bathroom to wash up for bed.

The only sources of light when she returned to the living room were from an antique floor lamp and the lantern on the coffee table. An unopened can of purified water sat next to the lantern. On the couch, blankets were laid out neatly across the cushions with the corner of the topmost quilt pulled back. Phoebe couldn’t help but smile, this was the most welcoming “bed” she had seen in a good long while.

Couch springs squeaked as she slipped between the blankets. She had just laid her head against the pillow when a knock sounded behind her. Leaning on her elbow she looked back to see Hancock leaning on the doorframe, his hat was missing. It was almost strange to see him without it.

“How’s the bed? Not too many springs stickin’ ya in the back I hope.”

Phoebe shook her head. “No, it’s great. Thank you again for letting me stay here.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal,” he replied. “Need anything else?”

Another shake of her head.

“Alright, I’m gonna go turn in. Big day and all tomorrow,” he said as he pushed away from the doorframe. “If you need anything I’ll just be right across the hall.”

“Goodnight, Hancock,” Phoebe said with a smile.

He turned and shot back a smile of his own. “‘Night, Sunshine.”

With that, he left the room. Phoebe killed the floor lamp light so the only the flickering light of the lantern was left. She laid back down and pulled the quilt up to her chin and watched the lamplight flicker and dance across the ceiling. Heat bloomed on her face.

He had used that nickname again. She hadn’t heard him use it since that night they first met after she spent hours venting to him in the Third Rail. It was only a few months ago, but to her, it felt like years now.

The blushing had dulled and her smile faded. She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes and watched the colours swirl beneath the lids, then dropped her arms at her sides. That night he had told her not to give up on saving her son, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if she had done just that.


	2. Tea in a Time Capsule

“Go away,” said a gruff voice through the intercom next to the door. Hancock figured that it must have belonged to a ghoul. He and Phoebe looked at each other. “Not all that friendly it seems,” he said.

Phoebe’s brow furrowed as she chewed on her lip. He noticed she tended to do that whenever she seemed unsure of something. “I’m sure this was the place he said to go to.”

Hancock eyed the sentry bot powered down at the other side of the house, or mansion rather. The place was enormous. “I think it’d be best we confirm that it is, don’t really wanna know what these guys do to folks who ain’t supposed to be hanging around here.”

She looked at the robot, then at the door and frowned. Despite what she had told him earlier that morning he could tell that she was still tired. And having to witness Fahrenheit’s rather heated objections to him up and leaving, then having her tower over her and threaten her life should anything happen to him probably didn’t help much. He eyed the slump in her shoulders. This wasn’t the product of a bad night’s sleep, there was something more to this puzzle that he couldn’t quite piece together yet.

Phoebe bent in front of the intercom and held down the talk button. “Uh, this is Phoebe Spencer,” she said, “Edward Deegan offered me work a while ago and told me to come here?”

“Oh, it’s you,” the voice replied through a bit of static. “One moment, please.” The com crackled off then the sounds of someone unlocking an endless amount of deadbolts and door chains came from the other side of the big oak door. Finally it swung inward and revealed the tower of a ghoul that was Edward Deegan who was dressed head to toe in green military garb and combat armour. Both Hancock and Phoebe had to tilt their heads back to look up at him.

“Hell of a security system you got here, Eddie,” Hancock said.

“Sorry,” said Edward. “We get a lot of yahoos around here,” his bloodshot eyes darted about the front yard, “you better come inside.”

They both did as he asked and he shut the door behind them and redid all the locks that lined the door from bottom to top. The precautions made a lot more sense now that they were inside the house. Hancock couldn’t believe the place and he had only seen the entryway. Everything was immaculate, doorknobs and light fixtures were polished, wallpaper was bright and not peeling off the walls and it looked as though every surface had been freshly dusted. Hancock never considered himself to be a slob, sure he let things get a bit cluttered every now and then, but he knew his way around a mop and bucket. This place made the old state house look like a cardboard box under a bridge.

“It’s about time you came to see us, Ms. Spencer,” Edward said, bringing Hancock back to earth. “Was beginning to wonder if you were still interested in the job.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Phoebe said. “I’ve just been so busy caught up in other things, I forgot all about it.”

 _Yeah, like taking down Raider City with some Joe Blow Supersoldier._ Hancock thought to himself. He still had a hard time believing that she and only one other guy had cleared that place out. Why hadn’t she rallied her Minutemen to fight alongside her? That would have been the ideal M.O. Had she somehow lost her authority? Or found herself in a position where she couldn’t look to her men for backup? Was that why she was so melancholy? It was a story he would very much like to hear in its entirety once she felt up to sharing it.

“Well, better late than never. Can’t expect things to go as planned these days,” Edward said. He turned his attention toward Hancock. “One thing I didn’t expect was the mayor of Goodneighbor being here as well.”

“That’s right,” Hancock replied with a grin. “How you been keeping these days, Eddie?”

“Been better, to be perfectly honest,” said Edward. “Now is there something you need, Mr. Mayor? I really need to fill Ms. Spencer in on her work for us.”

Hancock draped an arm around Phoebe’s shoulders. “Nah, it’s nothing like that. We’re a package deal, Pheebs and me. Where one of us goes, the other follows, ya dig?” At the corner of his eye, he could see Phoebe’s ear turning red.

Edward raised a brow as his gaze slid between the two. “I see. This’ll make payment interesting. At any rate, it’s time you met the boss.” He lead them through a doorway on the right into a spacious living room complete with lush furniture, dazzling chandeliers and a pool table. A staircase led up to a landing where a set of double doors stood open.

The baby blue walls were decorated with paintings done by artists long forgotten. A large piece depicted an aged couple; a stern looking man with a beard sat at a table as the woman Hancock assumed to be his wife stood behind him with a hand on his shoulder. She looked less than impressed with having her portrait done. It appeared to be an old piece. Hancock wondered if they were the original Mr. and Mrs. Cabot.

Edward faced the second floor landing and called out, “Jack! The new gal is here.”

“One moment!” a high pitched voice called back from within a room. “One moment, I just have to…” the voice trailed off. A moment later came a flash followed by a small boom. Wisps of smoke billowed from the open doors.

“He’ll be right with us,” Edward said as though small explosions in the house were a common occurrence. Hancock and Phoebe exchanged a look.

A man staggered from the room and leaned against the railing of the landing. Both his face and the front of his lab coat were blackened with what looked to be soot. “Damn. Clearly I’ll need to adjust the mixture.” the man said through a cough as he smoothed back his hair. “Hello, hello! Welcome to Cabot house, I’m Jack Cabot.” He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the gunk from his glasses and face as he stumbled down the stairs. Once he could properly see he scurried up to Phoebe and took her hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “You must be Ms. Spencer, the new hire Edward has told me about! Took you awhile to find us, I see. The streets are terrible to navigate these days.”

Phoebe just smiled politely. Hancock was glad it wasn’t just him that was overwhelmed by the man’s excited chatter. The guy talked a mile a minute. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cabot,” she said. “I really am sorry for making you wait for me for so long.”

“Oh nonsense,” Jack Cabot said with a wave of his hand. “There’s no harm done, well, not yet, but we can worry about that later.” He looked over to Hancock and ogled him, his eyes magnified ten times behind the thick lenses he wore. “And who might you be?” he asked.

“Hancock, mayor of Goodneighbor,” said Hancock.

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “So you are!” he exclaimed. “I had heard that you modeled your appearance after the historical John Hancock, but seeing you in person? Colour me impressed. Almost a spitting image!” He shook Hancock’s hand just as vigorously has he had Phoebe’s. Hancock noted that he didn’t seem perturbed in shaking a ghoul’s hand. To some, that would be obvious since he worked with a ghoul to begin with, but that didn’t apply to everyone.

“Shouldn’t we get to what we need them to do, Jack?” asked Edward.

“In due time, Edward, in due time,” Jack said. “But first, as you know, I would like to get to know the people I employ.”  He gestured for them to have a seat then called for a maid to prepare refreshments. Phoebe objected to the offer saying that she could just stand to avoid ruining the furniture with her armour, but the man insisted. She lowered herself beside Hancock and kept incredibly still as if she were worried the chesterfield would come to life and bite her.

The maid returned pushing a cart carrying a tea set and a platter of tiny sandwiches and cakes. She handed both Phoebe and Hancock a cup before giving one to Jack and leaving the pot and food on the coffee table, disappearing into the back room with her cart. She had offered tea to Edward, who had remained standing, but he politely declined.

Hancock looked down at the brown liquid that steamed out of the cup in his hands. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was as though they had walked into another time completely. Another world. A world where everything was clean and your clothes looked nice. Where there were servants bringing tea and  sweets into parlours whose furniture didn’t smell like piss or writhe with rodents. He had always wondered what life was like back before the world ended, and it seemed as though this man lived like it never had. Had Phoebe once lived like this? He looked at her as she sat like a rod was shoved up her spine, gripping the tea saucer to stop herself from spilling while at the same time holding it as if to keep the delicate china from falling to brittle in her hands. She was familiar with the  lifestyle it seemed, but had no comfort in it.

Jack wiped the sandwich crumbs from his moustache with a napkin. “Now before we get down to business, I have a question I like to ask all my new employees,” he said.

“Is this really the time fo-”

“Don’t interrupt, Edward,” Jack cut in. He leaned forward in his armchair and said, “The question is this: do you believe there is other intelligent life in the universe?”

Phoebe almost choked on her tea and Hancock’s brows disappeared into his hat.This was the last thing Hancock expected him to say.

“Are you asking us if we believe in aliens?” Phoebe sputtered.

“Well, yes,” said Jack, “but I’m not talking about flying saucers and little green men. I’m talking about the hidden history of our planet. The very origins of human civilization. Ancient powers that modern science, even at its pinnacle, could barely begin to comprehend.” He looked from Phoebe to Hancock expectedly, his eyes resembling an insect’s behind his glasses. Between that and the fact that odd strands of his hair still stuck out in places and he still had dark stuff smeared on his face and lab coat, the man had the appearance of a cartoon mad scientist featured in comic books.

“That is,” Phoebe began, then paused to look for the right words. “A really interesting theory,” she finished, settling on “interesting.”

“Stranger things have been known to happen,” Hancock agreed before taking a bite of tart. He had seen his fair share of wacky, ancient aliens could be plausible, albeit a stretch.

Jack’s face lit up. “I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s become my life’s work. My approach is to combine a rigorous scientific method while keeping an absolutely open mind. So much has been closed off to us simply because people assumed they already knew the answers,” he said with a sigh.

“My father excavated a city in the Rub’al Khali in Arabia-”

“Gesundheit,” said Hancock.

“What? No, no, the Rub’al Khali is a place,” Jack corrected. “The city was dated to be from more than four thousand years before the rise of any known human civilization. The structures and artifacts were… strange. Disturbing, even.” He was leaning so far off the armchair that he was practically crouching on the floor. “Clearly not constructed for or by humans. I’ve spent my life trying to decipher what he uncovered.”

“Jack, can I tell them what I need them to do?” Edward asked, clearly ready to get things rolling.

Jack blinked for a moment as if he had forgotten where he was. He sat back in his seat sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Edward. You know me, I just get carried away sometimes,” he said with an awkward chuckle. Hancock wondered if Jack didn’t have many other visitors and if Edward had heard all of his excited ramblings many times over. “You’re sending them to look for the missing shipment, yes?” asked Jack.

Edward nodded.

“Right,” said Jack. “Well I better let you get to it.” He looked back at Hancock and Phoebe. “We’ll talk more about this some other time, when things are less rushed. It isn’t as important as finding that shipment.” He stood and walked toward the stairs before turning back to them and spreading his arms wide. “Welcome to the family!” he said with a big smile. With that, he scurried back up the stairs to the room Hancock figured was a lab or a study of some sort.

Edward watched him go before looking back to them and clapping his hands together. “Okay, you’re both officially hired,” he said. “Congratulations.”

Phoebe set her tea cup on the coffee table. “He is… certainly an interesting person,” she said. Hancock had to agree. He had never met someone so enthralled by the idea that aliens had created civilization to the point of spending all his time dedicated to its research. Made him wonder where he got all the caps to be able to pay so many people to work for him.

“It’s best to keep an open mind with Jack,” Edward said. “He’s eccentric, but he’s definitely not crazy.”

Another small explosion caused the doors of the laboratory to rattle, making both Hancock and Phoebe jump.

“The job I have for you two is simple,” Edward continued as if nothing had happened. “Jack owns a,” he mulled for the right word, “facility, up north. A package went missing on its way from there to here, and I need you two to track it down and bring it back to me. Any questions?”

“Only about a hundred,” Phoebe admitted.

“Exactly what kind of ‘facility’ are we talking about here?” asked Hancock.

“The building’s called Parsons State Insane Asylum,” said Edward. “Don’t let the name scare you, it’s just where Jack does the bulk of his work. He has a shipment of his research brought to the house every week, except for this week. Talk to Captain Maria at the asylum, she may have more information for you to go on.”

He gave Phoebe the location to the asylum and she recorded the coordinates in her Pip-Boy map. Once everything was settled Edward tipped his newsboy cap and bid them both goodbye and good luck and they found themselves out on the front step again.

The sun hung in the center of the sky, marking mid day. It would take them the rest of the afternoon and some of tomorrow to walk to the asylum.

Together they walked down the small courtyard, passed a Mister Handy trimming a hedge who hissed at them to keep off the grass, then out through the front gate. The two of them kept silent as they walked, almost as if they thought they could still be heard a block away.

They came to the bridge that stretched across the river and branched off into a three-pronged fork, the middle most leading to Bunker Hill. Sunlight glittered upon the river in parts that weren’t coated in floating waste. A dead fish drifting along the surface was suddenly pulled under the water by what Hancock guessed to be a mirelurk. He was so busy watching the mysterious bubbles and rotten fish chunks float to the surface that he hadn’t realized Phoebe was talking to him. “What was that? Sorry, sister, I had my head up my ass,” he said.

“Oh it was nothing pressing,” she said, kicking a rock in the road. “I just noticed you kept calling Mr. Deegan Eddie, I was wondering if you two were friends.”

The rock rolled in front of Hancock’s boot and he kicked it further. “Yeah, I know him,” he said. “Old Eddie’s been around for a good long time being a pre-war ghoul and that. He’s been all over lookin’ for people needing work. He’s helped a lot of folks in Goodneighbor get off the streets and back on their feet. I have a lot of respect for the guy. Never actually met the fella he works for until now, though.”

“Mr. Cabot certainly is a different duck.” The rock returned to Phoebe and she sent it rolling again.

“Seems harmless enough.” The rock was back in Hancock’s court. “Curious to know how he makes the amount of cap he does to pay off all his staff. Doubt anyone’s paying him to find the truth to his little theory.”

Phoebe kicked the rock again and it rolled under a car. “Shame he wasn’t interested in flying saucers and little green men. I happen to know a place where he can find both, though the body might be scavenger food now, but I’m sure the saucer’s still there.”

Hancock eyed her suspiciously. “You ain’t having me on, are ya?”

“No it’s true!” she said looking back at him with wide eyes. “It flew over our heads and crash landed just outside of the city.” She mimicked a flying aircraft with her hand, bringing it high above their heads then a sharp arch down. “We followed it’s radio signal all the way to the crash site.”

“Yeah, likely story,” he said with a grin.

“It’s not a story, it really happened! We followed a trail of green goo and found the alien in a cave. When it noticed we were there it started shooting at us and we had to kill it.”

“Right, and every night I grow wings and fly around stealing people’s teeth.”

“The tooth fairy’s still a thing?”

“Wait, that’s a _thing_?”

“Never mind,” she said waving a hand. “But I really did see an alien. Ask Nick, he was there, too.”

“Oh, I’m _sure_ he was,” he said. She put her hands on her hips and huffed in annoyance and Hancock couldn’t hold it in anymore. He let out a snort that grew into fits of laughter.

Phoebe’s eyes flashed and she gasped. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” she said pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Oh, of course not,” he wheezed. He drew himself up and lay a hand on his chest in mock importance. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. I would do no such thing.”

She puffed out her cheeks in an effort to look mad. It failed and she burst out laughing along with him, her nose crinkling on the left side. They continued joking as they bypassed Bunker Hill, not bothering to stock up on supplies since they had already done so back in Goodneighbor.

They passed by the Bureau of Alcohol, Drugs, Tobacco, Firearms and Lasers when Phoebe’s laughter died down. Hancock looked over to her and saw her teeth were working on her lip again and her brow was furrowed.

“What’s on your mind, Pheebs?”

She adjusted the way her backpack sat on her shoulders. “There’s something that Mr. Cabot said that’s been bothering me.”

“What’s that?”

She looked at him with a perplexed expression. “He said that his father lead an expedition to Arabia, how could something like that be possible now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoofta! Sorry this chapter took so long! I may try to give myself a deadline date for this next one and try to get it out quicker. At any rate I hope y'all enjoy!


	3. Special Delivery

A chilly autumn wind blew between them as Hancock took a moment to process what Phoebe had just said. “What exactly do you mean?” he asked finally.

“Arabia is really far away,” said Phoebe. “All the way across the ocean. And as far as I know, people aren’t able to travel that far, right?”

Hancock looked down and scratched his chin in thought. “You have a point there,” he said. “Not gonna lie, it didn’t occur to me that this Arabia place was pre-war.”

“Has there ever been any instances of people travelling that far after the bombs?” Phoebe asked.

He began to pace. “There has been the odd time that some loon would lash a bunch of garbage together and shove off to sea, but no one’d see them again,” he said. “The only long distance travel I’ve known has been over dry land, or fairly close to the mainland.”

It just didn’t make any sense. Was Jack Cabot lying about his father’s accomplishments, or did he have him mixed up with a great, great, great grandfather? He talked quickly enough, a slip of the tongue could have been possible. Though judging by the state of Mr. Cabot’s home it could have been likely his father was able to afford having some sort of vessel built. She remembered the zeppelin the Brotherhood of Steel had so extravagantly arrived in. Perhaps he had something similar that could cross the ocean? But then there was the whole question of what state Arabia was in these days, along with other countries. How safe would a journey like that be? Phoebe’s head began to hurt.

“Careful now, smoke’s gonna come out your ears,” said Hancock, pulling her from her thoughts. He had stopped pacing and was now looking at her with a grin on his face.

Phoebe huffed. “I just want to make sense of this.”

He chuckled. “Hey, I’m just as curious about this as you are now that you’ve brought it to my attention, but how about we ask him about it when we get this job done? It seems to be the guy’s favourite subject.”

Phoebe wasn’t quite ready to drop it yet, but she knew Hancock was right. The questions continued to itch at the back of her mind as they crossed another bridge and made for the overpass while at the same time steering clear of the super mutant camp at Revere Satellite Array. According to Phoebe’s map, the elevated roadway marked a straight path toward the insane asylum, though it also passed over camps and makeshift fortresses of less than friendly folk. They stopped for camp at Finch Farm, whom had gladly given them directions to avoid the Gunners at Hub City Auto Wreckers and at three in the afternoon, the asylum came into view.

Phoebe had never been to Parsons State Insane Asylum before the bombs, but had heard stories about the kind of people who had lived there. Some from the news, others from old coworkers’ cases. She remembered one particular telling of a young boy who was admitted for committing several brutal murders at only ten years old. People had speculated he was the Pint-Sized Slasher, an urban myth from Washington D.C. Parents spoke of a child that wore a clown mask and crawled from a dog house each night to chase after naughty children with a toy knife. The Slasher was Phoebe’s mother’s favourite weapon in her arsenal to keep Phoebe in line when she was young. To think that the Slasher could have been real and stayed at Parsons sent chills up and down Phoebe’s spine.

The V-shaped building looked even more daunting the closer to it they got. Gothic towers stood at either end with spires jutting up into the sky. Every window that wasn’t boarded up was cracked and clouded from over a century’s worth of dust and dirt. Phoebe’s imagination tried to fabricate faces pressed against the glass and she decided to focus on something else. Ivy climbed up the walls and power lines snaked along the roof. From inside the courtyard skeletal trees stretched over the iron fence, their bony branches waving in the wind as if to beckon her to come closer. Everything about the place screamed foreboding and ominous. A stark opposite of the opulent Cabot house. At least Parsons looked like it belonged in the wasteland.

Guards stationed at the gates straightened to attention as they approached. “That’s close enough,” one of them said, making sure they saw the rifle in his hands. “This here’s private property, either state your business or leave.”

“It’s okay,” Phoebe reassured, “Edward Deegan sent us up here to help recover a lost package.”

That seemed to be all the confirmation needed as the guards stood aside to let them in. The one that spoke out to them led them both further into the courtyard past unkempt flower beds and broken statues toward a collection of trailers that would have been used on construction sites. Mr. Cabot must have had them brought in when he had started working in the asylum.

The guard brought Phoebe and Hancock to the first trailer and rapped his knuckles on the door. “Captain, the new recruits are here,” he said.

The door slid open and out came a woman in road leathers and green combat armour. Phoebe guessed she was Maria, the guard captain. She stood on the doorstep with her hands planted at her hips and eyed Phoebe up and down. “So, you’re the fresh meat, eh?” she asked as she stepped down to her level. She was an inch shorter than Phoebe, about five feet and four inches, though that didn’t stop Maria from looking down her nose at her. “Can’t say I’m much impressed. Where is it you’re from?”

“Vault 111,” said Phoebe.

The woman swore. “Dammit, how many times do I have to tell Deegan that vaulties are about as useful as a water bucket full o’ holes? Go back and tell him to send me some decent fucking help. Dewy eyed greenie that doesn't know one end of their gun from the other.” She turned back to the mobile home.

Phoebe couldn’t stop herself from flinching. She had been trying to survive in the wastes for almost a year now and people still saw her as some green horn. She was general of the Minutemen for goodness sake. It was just like it was back at the law firm. It seems as though some things won’t change no matter how many times civilization is destroyed. No matter how used to it she should be by now, the words still managed to sting.

“Christ, you sure know how to make a first impression,” Hancock said as he moved from behind Phoebe to stand beside her. “This how you always greet the new guy, or do you like to pick on the ones that bathe more?”

Captain Maria stopped in her tracks and whipped around to face him. She sucked in a breath as though she were preparing to chew out a runt for talking out of turn, but held it in when she realized who he was. She narrowed her eyes at him, her frown creating deep lines at the corners of her mouth. “And what the hell are you doing here?” she said evenly, though her teeth were noticeably clenched.

“Same reason she is,” Hancock said as he gestured at Phoebe. “Your guys lost Cabot’s shipment, now we’re here to fix your little fuck up.”

“It wasn’t a fuck up it was a god damn ambush!” Captain Maria spat.

“A rose by any other name, sister,” Hancock shot back.

Phoebe looked at him. Hancock knew Shakespeare? This man was a surprise at every turn. Had he read it, or simply gotten his hands on a working holofilm? She was so awestruck that for a moment she had forgotten the line was intended to be snide. She looked back to Maria and sucked a quick breath through her teeth.

The woman was seething, there was a good chance they’d both be chased off the property if Phoebe didn’t do something to diffuse the tension. She said, “Why don’t you tell us what happened? Mr. Deegan didn’t really elaborate on it.”

Captain Maria tore her glare away from Hancock and set it back on Phoebe. “Yesterday morning we sent one of our couriers to Cabot house with one of the boss’ special packages,” she said, seeming to calm down a bit. “When Deegan reported that it never showed up and the courier never came back, we went looking for him. Found the poor sap about a mile from here with a bullet in his back. The package was never recovered, but the bastards that got him left us a trail.

“I sent some scouts to track down his killers and they found them up at the old Parsons Creamery. About ten of ‘em total.”

“Do you know what was in the package that the raiders could have wanted?” said Phoebe.

“That’s on a need to know basis,” the captain said flatly.

“You really don’t think we need to know what it is we’re supposed to get back?” asked Hancock.

She was back to glaring at him. “No. To be truthful, I’d rather not hand this off to some rosy-cheeked vaultie and her ghoulie guard dog, mayor of Goodneighbor or not. And though as much as I’d like to throw the both of you out of here, we can’t piss away any more time than we already have.”

“You should have a little more faith in us,” Hancock said, Phoebe could hear the grin in his voice. “You do have the general of the Minutemen helpin’ you out, after all.”

Maria quirked a brow at Phoebe. “That so?” she said, skeptical. “Well if that’s the case you can lead the assault tonight.”

A lump grew in Phoebe’s throat and she shoved it down with a swallow.

 _Remember, people may not be able to smell fear, but they can detect it on your face, or in your body language. Don’t let them see that you’re afraid._ Echoed Preston Garvey’s voice in her head. She relaxed her shoulders and stood up straighter. “I’ll do my best,” she said evenly.

Maria snorted. “I sure hope so,” she said. “You’re moving out at sundown, so you better rest up. And make sure you meet up with the team so you can get a plan started.” She addressed the guard that was still loitering around the trailer and had him take Phoebe and Hancock to one of their own to bunk for the afternoon. As soon as the door slid closed behind them, Phoebe flopped into a fold out chair with a sigh.

“What’s eating ya, sister?” Hancock asked.

Phoebe let out a halfhearted chuckle and threw up her hands. “When I agreed to this job, I thought I would be helping escort some caravan or guarding a building. Now I’m about to lead an attack on some raiders and get back a stolen shipment that we aren’t even allowed to know about.” She ran her hands through her bangs. “And on top of that, the captain of the guard hates us. It’s a little overwhelming to say the least.”

Hancock took a seat on an old trunk, there were no other chairs, and rested his elbows on his knees. “You’ve lead Minutemen into raider camps before, though, right?”

Phoebe nodded. “I did, but I’m not going to lie, it was a lot easier with Preston there with me.” She noticed he didn’t bring up Libertalia and she was glad of it. He must have understood that that mission was a special case, or he just knew better than to talk about it.

Hancock nodded sagely, tenting his fingers. “It’s always good to have someone at your back, but hey, you ain’t alone here. You got nothin’ to worry about with me covering ya,” he said with a smile.

Phoebe blushed a little and smiled back. There was some reassurance at having him there with her, but it also added to her anxiety. She was afraid to mess up in front of him. “Thank you for sticking up for me, by the way.”

Hancock waved it off. “Aw it’s no big deal, sister. Folks like Maria who get too big for their britches go nuts whenever someone pushes back. Though word of advice; don’t let other people drag you through the mud like that. You ain’t nobody’s doormat.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “It felt like I was getting the hang of it a while ago, but now I feel like I lost my mojo. Probably doesn’t help that I still tell people I came from a vault.”

“Hey, it happens to the best of us. Now’s your chance to show that asshole that she fucked up brushing you off like that. And I’m always here to back you up if you’re needin’ a little extra help.”

There it was again, _I’ll back you up_. He hadn’t really known her other than the few times they had interacted in the past, and yet he was ready to jump to her aid without hesitation. It puzzled Phoebe. Was this something he did for everyone? He was a generous enough person for that to be true. It’s not like she deserved any special treatment from him.

At any rate, she thanked him again for his kind offer and then the two of them spent the rest of the afternoon meeting with the squad of mercs Phoebe was to command, studying the layout of the area the scouts had sketched out, cooking up a strategy. They waited until the sun had gone completely down to mobilize.

The creamery wasn’t far from the asylum, only about a thirty minute walk away. Campfires and lamplight dotted the area in and around the building, resembling fireflies from the vantage point of their hiding spot. One of the troop, a sniper named Pete, used his night vision scope to confirm that there were in fact ten heads around the camp and inside the building. He couldn’t see the package anywhere outside, though. It was probably stored inside with other plundered prizes.

“Ten little raiders? We seriously needed all this planning for ten fucking raiders?” said one of the mercs.

“Aw come on, Ziggy,” said another with bumper stickers all over his chest plate. “It’s Little Vaultie’s first day, gotta start small, right?”

“How about we stop poking the bear and focus on what we came here to do,” Phoebe said in the meanest voice she could muster. She looked to Hancock, who held up  a fist. “You… bunch of jerks.”

The mercs all exchanged glances and Hancock winced. Phoebe sighed. Minutemen were so much easier.

She brushed the awkward exchange aside. It was time to set the plan in motion. While Pete remained where he was to provide any cover fire, the rest of the group were to sneak around the camp and have it surrounded. Half of the team would take out the raiders outside, the other half storms the building and recover the package. Phoebe was to lead the former, Hancock the latter.

It seemed straightforward enough in theory, Phoebe hoped the same could be said in practice. She adjusted her grip on her combat shotgun, Bigsly, and signaled for the party to move to their positions. Together the two divisions moved as one down the ditch and broke apart at the bottom. Phoebe glanced over her shoulder and watched Hancock’s back grow further away. She hoped that he would be careful, he had refused to wear a chest plate under his coat arguing that he had fought against a lot more while wearing less. That better have been true, Phoebe would never forgive herself for letting the mayor of Goodneighbor die under her watch.

She turned her attention back to the task at hand. The group was spread along the outer rim of the creamery’s yard, crouching behind rocks and the tall dry grass. They were far enough away to keep from being seen in the flickering firelight, yet close enough that the raiders’ conversations could be heard.

“Dammit, don’t hog it all!!” cried one.

“You want it? Come and take it from me, I dare you,” taunted another.

Phoebe assumed that they were squabbling over chems, hopefully not something Mr. Cabot was working on.

A commotion coming from the building caused the camp to jolt to attention. Hancock’s group must have jumped the gun and given themselves away too soon. Phoebe grimaced. So much for the element of surprise.

She cocked her gun and hollered, “Now!” before jumping up and pumped the nearest raider full of bullets. Her squad followed suit and soon enough the yard was filled with crackling gunfire and screams. Whether the screaming was from surprise, pain or anger, Phoebe wasn’t sure.

A raider took a swing at her with a golf club and she ducked in time to hear it whistle over her head. She aimed Bigsly upward and fired three rounds into the raider’s gut. They groaned and crumpled onto the ground.

She heard wailing and turned to see a woman in tattered long underwear barreling in her direction. Phoebe shot at her five times, each bullet meeting their mark and forming red polka dots in the woman’s underwear. She didn’t stop running. Bigsly was quickly emptied into the woman and she only faltered once or twice. Phoebe froze in terrified awe. Was she wearing some sort of armour under her clothes?

The raider woman brought up her arm and backhanded Phoebe so hard her feet left the ground. She landed hard on her back and all the air rushed from her lungs. She gasped and clutched at her chest then felt something wrong. Looking down she saw that her chest plate had been dented, an almost perfect outline of the woman’s bare arm.

A blood chilling wail made Phoebe look to her right and she watched in horror as another raider ripped Ziggy’s head clean off his shoulders using only his hands. Behind them, someone was launched through the metal walls of the creamery, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. All around her her men were being ripped apart and tossed about as though they were merely made of paper.

Fear, confusion and dread enveloped her like a thick burlap sack. Just what were these people?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy this chapter felt real hard to write. BUT I managed to reach my deadline and have a finished chapter for y'all. As always I hope you enjoy it!!  
> (went back and did some subtle editing on this chapter. There were some things, including the chapter title, that I wasn't satisfied with)


	4. One Eye Blind

Phoebe had seen a lot of horrible things since she had woken from cryo-sleep. She watched a deathclaw tear people apart on her second day out of the vault. She had seen a mirelurk queen emerge from the sea, shrieking horribly and spitting acid strong enough to melt flesh from bone. She had looked upon the horrors of Pickman Gallery and revisited the place in her nightmares for weeks afterwards. None of what she had seen in the past could have prepared her for this.

Captain Maria had assigned twenty mercenaries to retrieve Mr. Cabot’s package—what was originally believed to be an exaggerated amount—and now most of them were being beaten, bludgeoned, and begging for the nightmare to end. This wasn’t a deathclaw attack, or a gaggle of feral ghouls or a pack of super mutants inflicting all this hurt and fear. These were human people, as far as Phoebe knew. Each one of them exhibiting levels of strength that stated otherwise.

Heavy, gurgly breathing pulled Phoebe’s attention away from the carnage and her eyes widened. Staggering toward her was the raider woman in the long johns that had swatted her like she was no bigger than a pre-war house fly. Blood seeped from her gunshot wounds. One arm was wrapped around her torso, making a futile attempt to staunch the flow, the other dragged a wooden bat with nails poking out crookedly along the shaft. Her eyes bulged from her skull and her teeth were bared like a rabid mongrel’s. More blood gushed from her lips and ran down her chin as she struggled to breathe. This woman should have been dead, and yet here she was, shambling across the grass like a creature from a horror film. Determined not to die until she could deliver one last hit.

_That bat is for you! Wake up and move!_

Snapped from her stupor, Phoebe crawled backwards away from the wild woman. She felt around in the grass for her shotgun, but Bigsly was nowhere in reach. She remembered the ten millimeter pistol she had named 10mm Tim and fumbled for it at her belt. Her dented chest piece dug into her and applied too much pressure with each breath, making her gasp and cough which ignited even more pain. She needed to get the thing off before she blacked out.

A guttural yell signaled to her that she had run out of time and she rolled just as the spiked bat sank into the ground beside her head with a dull _thunk_ . The raider flashed Phoebe a pink, filmy smile as she grasped the bat with both hands. She reefed it from the earth and brought it high over her head. The bat began its downward arc when— _crack!_

Her head snapped back and the gurgling stopped as she toppled over backwards. Phoebe looked around for the gunman, but couldn’t see anyone in the camp that it could have been. Her saviour must have been Pete, at least his cover hadn’t yet been blown.

A hand gripped her shoulder and she shrieked and nearly elbowed Hancock in the face. “It’s okay, it’s just me!” he cried as he jumped out of reach. He knelt in front of her and from what she could immediately see, he wasn’t hurt. She thanked her stars for that. “You okay?”

Phoebe shook her head and pointed at her ruined chest plate. “Need to get this off,” she gasped. He swore at the size of the dent then moved behind her to hook his arms under her armpits. He dragged her over the bank and back into the ditch where they ran into the surviving members of their squad. They started squabbling at her as soon as they saw her, but she couldn’t register what they were saying.

She fumbled at the straps of her chest plate, trying to loosen the buckles when Hancock shooed her hands away and undid them for her. Once it was loosened, she wriggled out of the shoulder straps of her backpack and threw the armour over her head. She gulped lungfuls of air, her chest aching each time her diaphragm expanded. There was definitely going to be a bruise there tomorrow, if she lived that long. 

Someone was talking to her and she looked up to see that it was the merc with the bumper stickers on his chest plate. She felt bad that she couldn’t remember his name.

“Did you know anything about this?” he asked, eyes wild and sweat dripping from his nose. She shook her head, unable to understand what he was talking about through the fuzziness still buzzing in her skull. He jabbed a thumb toward the top of the bank. “The fucking super soldiers up there!” he whisper-yelled at her.

“Back down, asshole,” Hancock growled, putting himself between them. “We were both as much in the dark about them as you were.”

The merc shook his head and pointed at Phoebe. “I wanna hear it from her.”

“No, we didn’t know,” she said. “We were just told to come get the shipment back, they only said there were ten of them in total. They didn’t mention how dangerous they were.”

Bumper Stickers swore. “Guess double the fire power makes sense now,” he said. “If we live through this, I’m gonna tear the captain a new one.”

“Does anyone know how to kill these guys?” Phoebe asked.

“Shooting them ‘til they drop,” said a dark skinned merc woman with three peircings on her left eyebrow, Phoebe believed her name was Truck. “If you don’t run out of bullets first, that is.”

“Melee’s no good,” another piped up, “you get too close and they rip your arms off.”

More shots fired from Pete’s hiding place followed by pained cries.

“Has anyone tried explosives?” said Phoebe. “We can’t rely on Pete to kill them all for us.”

“What if we blow up the boss’ goods?” said Truck.

“Did anyone find them?” asked Phoebe.

Hancock shook his head. “We got about five steps in the building before they found us, it could still be in there for all I know. They started tearin’ us apart as soon as they saw us.”

Phoebe chewed her bottom lip. “Okay, we’ll hold out hope that the shipment is still safe in the building, and concentrate on keeping the explosions away from there,” she said, looking to each of them, “but if they start using the building as cover, we forget about the shipment and focus on getting out of here alive.”

It didn’t take much for the rest of them to agree with her. They were probably ready to abandon this job completely if they didn’t fear the possibility of these brutes tracking them back to the asylum. It wasn’t like they lived very far from here. 

Together they created a new plan; light them up with grenades and shoot them while they’re down. Don’t get too close to them if it can be helped, otherwise they run the risk of being ripped apart. Or blown up. Truck reached Pete on a walkie talkie and relayed the new plan to him. 

Phoebe was searching the pockets of her pack for any grenades when Hancock approached her. “Listen, Pheebs, I think it’d be best if you hang back here,” he said.

Phoebe looked up at him, her brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you shouldn’t be up there fighting these guys when you aren’t properly protected,” he said.

She stood up. “Not properly protected? Have you seen what these people can do? None of us are properly protected. They could probably punch through power armour for pete’s sake.”

“I understand that,” he said patiently, “but you gotta remember that you’re still the general of the Minutemen and you dying so soon won’t exactly help with morale.”

Phoebe scoffed. “And what’s your excuse? You’re the mayor of Goodneighbor. People look up to you, they need you. What makes you think you’ll get out okay? You’re not even wearing armour.”

“Well, actually,” he said, pulling open his coat and revealing dark material lining the inside. “Ballistic weave, baby. Kent hooked me up.”

“That isn’t going to stop them from crushing your skull.”

“Hey, would ya knock it off? They’re gonna fucking hear you,” Bumper Stickers hissed.

“Won’t let ‘em get close enough to try,” Hancock said more quietly. “Look, I know you wanna prove that you can handle yourself out there, but you ain’t been one hundred percent these last few days, and I don’t want you payin’ the ultimate price for it.” Phoebe made to argue further and he held up his hand. “Nope, already talked it over with the others, you’re gonna provide more cover fire. Do you have a ranged weapon you can use?”

She huffed, clearly there was no backing down from this. Yes, she was very scared and the whole idea of going into this fight without all of her armour made it worse, but she didn’t want to back down and hide in the bushes. She didn’t want to be the whimpering vault dweller people still saw her as. She wanted to help and prove that she can handle herself.

She bent over her backpack again and opened the gun case strapped to the side and uncovering Lawmaker, the laser musket she had found the day she helped Preston and the others in Concord. Since then Sturges had attached a scope and improved the cranking mechanism to rev up more power behind each shot. She held it up to Hancock wordlessly.

He nodded. “Good. Head to high ground and we’ll get started on these freaks.”

“Wait,” Phoebe said as he was about to leave. She knelt back over her backpack and fished out her med kit. She stood again and pressed a few stimpacks into his hand. “If I’m not allowed to die, neither are you.” 

He was about to argue, but snapped his mouth shut at the glare she shot him. He just nodded and stuffed stims in his coat pockets instead.

They broke away, Hancock joining up with the rest of the crew, and Phoebe moving to higher ground, being sure to not let the remaining raiders spot her. Nestling down next to a tree, she cranked Lawmaker until its chamber glowed and hummed. MacCready had given her a crash course on how to use long-range guns, but this was the first time she had ever used a gun with a scope. She told herself it couldn’t be too difficult.

She looked through the scope and lined up her first shot on a barrel-chested raider and squeezed the trigger. The gun jolted back and a beam of red light followed by the familiar _BWAAAAN_ seared through the night and sliced into the raider’s right shoulder. A howl resembling a wounded animal echoed over the cacophony of battle. It wasn’t a fatal hit, but a hit nonetheless. The howl was then drowned out by the boom of a fragmentation grenade and the raider was no longer a single solid shape.

Down below the mercs had begun their assault, lobbing grenades over the bank then storming in to finish the job. Some even ran to fallen comrades and dragged them to safety if they were still alive.

Phoebe lined up a new target, then had to find another as an explosion knocked them off their feet. Hancock’s red frock coat caught her eye and she followed his movement as he approached the felled raider. His shotgun was in his hands, but he kept it at his hip and his head was moved as though he was talking to the raider. Phoebe furrowed her brow. Was he taunting them? Then the raider shot up, pouncing at Hancock and Phoebe felt her heart slingshot into her throat as she scrambled to line up a shot.

Hancock ducked down at the last minute and brought up the gun barrel just as the raider flew overhead, firing a round into their passing face. Their head erupted into a spray of blood, bone and brain matter. The body landed in a crumpled heap as Hancock stood. Through her scope Phoebe could see him blow smoke from the barrel, a wicked grin on his face. A plasma grenade exploded somewhere behind him and turned him into a silhouette against a bright green background. Then he spotted another victim and tore off after them.

Phoebe felt both shock and awe. She didn’t like killing and never really got used to death being a norm, but the way he moved, how he executed each kill with primal grace. It was like watching a performance on the stage. A dance betwixt danger and death. He was in his element and it both terrified and enthralled her.

The crackle of rifle fire reminded her that she had a job to do and she tore her gaze away from the ghoul. She found another target and was about to fire a shot when the sound of a grenade exploding made her jump and accidentally squeeze the trigger. The musket fired, recoiling and hitting Phoebe in the eye with the scope. 

Dropping the gun and biting back a yell, Phoebe clapped her hands over her eye. She rolled onto her back, kicking the heels of her boots into the ground as stars flashed under her hands and tears streamed down her face. That was definitely _not_ supposed to happen.

When the pain ebbed away into a dull throb and her eyes stopped watering, allowing her to see somewhat through the swelling that rose up below her lower lid, Phoebe rolled over and crawled back to her spot and looked out over the creamery. All had gone still. Her insides did loopty loops until she confirmed it was her side that had won.

Pained groans from the injured drifted in the wind. Mercs walked stiffly about the yard, each looking grim. From Phoebe’s perch she could discern that, excluding Pete and Hanock, there were only five left alive of her squad. Two of which were hurt bad. This was a hollow victory.

Phoebe packed up her things and walked solemnly back to the yard. People had gathered around one of the burning trash cans that was still left standing. Each person sat with a distant look glazed over their eyes. Phoebe saw Hancock and stopped in her tracks. She had just remembered she had been short with him earlier and felt a bit awkward about talking to him just yet. Not to mention she didn’t really want him to see she nearly took her own eye out.

He caught sight of her anyway and trotted over to her. He stopped short as he got close enough to see her face. “Jesus, what the hell happened?” he cried. Phoebe’s eyes darted about in search for an answer in the grass, but all she saw was blood and a corpse.

“Looks like your scope jumped up and bit you, eh?” Pete had sidled up next to Hancock and studied Phoebe’s bad eye as well. “Might wanna check if you have the right size scope or stock, maybe figure out if your stance is correct while you’re at it. Scope bite’s a bitch.”

It was sound advice, but it felt like adding insult to injury in Phoebe’s mind. She nodded to him then dropped onto an old stump, exhausted. Once this rollercoaster of a mission was over she would very much like to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Pete shuffled off and Hancock knelt down in front of her and reached for her face. She flinched, jerking her head away and batting at his oncoming hand. “Don’t touch it!” she squeaked.

“Relax, sister, I just wanna take a look,” he said, raising his palms in surrender. She lowered her hands and stilled as he got closer. He kept his hands away from her face this time as he surveyed the damage. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a rag and a can of purified water, cracking it open and pouring it onto the cloth. He brought it up to her face and asked, “Do you mind? Gotta wipe off the blood.”

Phoebe quailed. “I’m _bleeding_?” It hurt, but she didn’t think it’d done that much damage.

Hancock shook his head. “Nah, it’s long stopped. Just gotta clean off the dry stuff,” he said.

 He asked again if it was okay for him to clean it up for her and she nodded. Using a corner of the cloth, he dabbed lightly at the bridge of her nose where the scope must have cut into her skin, his other hand carefully holding her chin to keep her head steady. The water wasn’t super cold since it had just been sitting in Hancock’s bag, but it still helped soothe the pulsing pain around her eye. The rag passed over the cut and her breath hitched slightly at the small sting. When he was done he bunched the cloth up and gently pressed it to her eye and instructed her to keep it there to help the swelling go down.

Phoebe marveled at him. Just minutes ago Hancock had been mercilessly pumping raiders full of lead and now here he was helping her clean her wounds. Being ever so gentle. 

It then occurred to her that whenever he touched her it was always fleeting, fingers just barely ghosting her skin. He was more comfortable playfully wrapping an arm around her shoulders because there were several layers of clothes and armour between them, but skin to skin contact? Even just touching hands? He low key shied away from it. He was afraid to touch her.

Was it something she had said? Or did? When he had reached out to her black eye she flailed at him because she was afraid he’d poke the sensitive part. Had he interpreted it differently? That she was afraid of his ghoulish skin? Had there been other instances where she had unwittingly given off that impression? Guilt welled up inside of her.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted.

Hancock raised a brow. “For what?”

“When I told you not to touch my eye, I meant not to touch the bruised part because it would hurt. Not because I don’t like your skin or anything. I think it’s quite lovely, actually.”

Both eyebrows came up this time. “That so?”

 _Oh my god, why did you have to say it like that?_ “Y-yes,” she stammered. “So you don’t have to worry about, like, touching my hand for too long or anything. You could hold onto it for as long as you want, I wouldn’t mind.”

Hancock let out a breathy chuckle. “Okay, um, good to know, sister,” he said, trying to discern whether she was being serious or not. 

 _Hhhhhhh for god’s sake, Phoebe, just please stop talking._ Keeping the makeshift compress on her bad eye, Phoebe shot up and out of this awkward mess she blabbered herself into and asked the surrounding mercenaries if they had found any sign of the missing package.

They shook their heads and grunted a negative. Phoebe moved stiffly toward the creamery to see what she could find. The night was slowly awakening into dawn, but the inside of the building was still cloaked in shadow. Phoebe switched the flashlight in her Pip-Boy on and shone it about the room.

The place was littered with old equipment, broken crates and bits of furniture the raiders had drug in. Phoebe stepped over busted bottles and used syringes into a small side room that had once been an office. A terminal and other assorted office supplies had been knocked to the floor and a metal box was set in their place atop the desk. Scuffs and scratches around the top of the box indicated that the lid had been pried off. Inside were several slots laid into black foam, each of the slots were empty. Dread bubbled up inside Phoebe. There had to be something to show for what they had gone through. Despite being prepared for this outcome, she hated the thought of coming home empty.

She noticed the box was deep, meaning there had to be something underneath the foam. Holding her breath, she lifted the top layer and almost despaired until she noticed one of the slots underneath wasn’t empty. Phoebe pulled out an odd looking syringe; it was short with a rubber squeeze bulb on one end instead of the typical plunger. There was a small green window on the side indicating that there was still liquid inside.

“Find anything?” Hancock asked from the doorway. Truck was standing next to him holding a flashlight.

Phoebe brought the syringe over to show them. “There’s just this one left,” she said, “do you know what it is?”

Hancock plucked the thing from Phoebe’s hand and turned it about in his fingers, Truck examined it over his shoulder. “Doesn’t look like any chem that I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“If it came from that box, then it’s gotta be from the asylum,” said Truck, shining her flashlight at the box on the desk. Then she flashed the beam at the scattered syringes on the floor, they all looked just like that one. Phoebe bent and gingerly picked one up, the little plastic guard on the needle had been removed and there was no liquid inside.

“Could that be what made the raiders so strong?” asked Phoebe.

Before either of them could answer, Bumper Stickers muscled his way into the group. “You mean the thing that we were supposed to bring back is what made those fuckers like that? And they only left us one?”

“Fredrickson—” Truck started.

“No, Truck. Don’t try to make it seem like its fine for them to keep this shit from us,” spat Fredrickson—Phoebe mentally bonked herself in the head for forgetting that name. “We’re out here, busting our asses, watching our friends get murdered, and for what? Some super drug that none of us are allowed to know about? We lost fourteen guys, Truck. _Fourteen_. Bently’s never gonna walk again!”

Truck was about to argue, then just shook her head. She couldn’t find a valid reason for their employers keeping this from them, neither could Phoebe, really. Jack Cabot’s research had seemed strange in the beginning, but this was just plain sketchy.

“Mark my words,” Fredrickson continued, holding up a shaky finger. His whole body was quivering with rage. “If Maria doesn’t give it to me straight, I’m taking my pay and walking. I ain’t doing this shit anymore. You all shouldn’t either.” He stormed out of the building. Truck looked back at Phoebe and Hancock and shrugged a shoulder before following.

Phoebe took the syringe from Hancock, wrapping it in the rag he had given her and carefully tucked it in her backpack as she joined him at the front steps of the creamery. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, turning the sky a bright, fluffy pink. Across the yard the mercs worked to put together a makeshift stretcher to bring Bently home.

Beside her Hancock lit a cigarette and Phoebe had to stop herself from coughing and pinching her nose. “He’s got a point, you know,” he said as he blew a cloud of smoke into the morning air.

Phoebe hummed in agreement, inching away from the smell.

“I’m sorry for making you take the backseat on the fighting back there,” he mumbled through his cigarette.

“Oh! Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It was probably for the best anyway, considering I wound up beaning myself in the face. I probably would have just blown myself up if you hadn’t said anything.”

Hancock chuckled. “That’s true.”

“I think what really got to me was the fact that you suggested I hold my ground, show people I can take care of myself. Then turned around and decided I wasn’t well enough to fight.”

He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I suppose that was pretty shit of me, wasn’t it? Guess I was still a little concerned that you hadn’t gotten enough rest since your little stint at the coast. Lost a lot of good people that way in the past.”

Phoebe looked down at him, he was about two inches shorter than her. His eyes pointed in the direction of the shambling mercenaries, but his gaze was miles away. In the end she was touched that he had worried for her, even when she had told him to drop it. She wished she could have eased his mind a little, tell him everything. But the very thought of it hurt too much. She would tell him everything in time, she told herself. She owed him that much.

“Oh,” Hancock blinked as if waking from a dream. He turned back to the creamery door and grabbed a gun that had been propped up against the door frame and presented it to her. “This yours? It looks like the one I saw you with before the fight.”

Phoebe took the gun from him. It was definitely a combat shotgun. She turned it around in her hands until she found the name “Bigsly” written on the stock in faded permanent marker. “Yes it is!” she said. “Thank you for finding it, I didn’t think it’d turn back up.”

He smiled and waved it off. The mercs had gotten Bently loaded in the stretcher. “Looks like it’s time to head back out,” he said, crushing the butt of his cigarette under the heel of his boot.

***

Captain Maria was bombarded by Fredrickson and the others almost as soon as they had arrived at the asylum. All Phoebe could do was tell her they only recovered one of the strange chems, which she wasn’t all too happy about. They left her to deal with the backlash from her men and begun the journey back to Cabot house. 

It was well into the evening of the next day when Phoebe knocked on the heavy oak door, though someone else’s voice buzzed over the intercom. The door swung open after she announced who she was and revealed a snooty butler. It figures that Edward Deegan had more important things to do than doorman duty.

The butler directed them to the living room where they first met Mr. Cabot, who was arguing with a white haired woman by the stairs. It still struck Phoebe dumb how clean and put together the place was.

Edward was standing by the doorway with his hands on his hips, his shoulders tight with tension. He turned their way as they approached and looked just as tired as he was relieved to see that they were there. “You’re back,” he said.

“Yeah, luckily made it outta there in one piece, thanks for the heads up on what to expect, by the way,” said Hancock sardonically.

Edward sighed. “Yes, I got the debrief from Maria,” he said, trying to avoid staring at Phoebe’s black eye. “We had hoped that you would arrive before they’d get the idea to use the compound, a sad underestimation on my part.”

“Why exactly didn’t you warn us about what was in the package?” asked Phoebe. “If we had all known what we were getting into, maybe we would have been more prepared.”

“And just what the hell is that shit for anyway?” added Hancock.

“I know you two have a lot of questions, bu—”

“For heaven's sake, Jack, your little sister is _missing!_ ” cried the woman, cutting Edward off. The three of them turned to look at the quarrelers.

Jack Cabot pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Yes, mother, I heard you the first time,” he said exasperatedly, “but there are much more important things that I need to deal with right now. I’m sure Emogene’s fine, probably just out with another one of her suitors.”

“Bah!” spat the woman. “It’s all just work with you now, isn’t it? You never give your family the time of day, now Emogene’s gone and all you have to say is that she’s probably fine? Have you forgotten what these last two centuries have been like? It’s not safe for her to be out there on her own!”

Jack rolled his eyes like an annoyed teenager and noticed Phoebe and Hancock were there watching them. “Oh you’re back!” he squeaked, pushing past the woman.

When she turned to face them, Phoebe gaped. She was standing just below the old painting of the aged couple, and she looked shockingly similar to the woman within the ornate frame. Same white hair with the same hairstyle, same sour expression. There was no way that the woman in the painting was the same one standing before them, the piece looked ancient. She had to only be in her sixties.

“I’m glad you two made it back safe and sound!” Jack obstructed Phoebe’s view of the woman with his body. “Edward told me you had quite the go around with those pesky raiders,” he said, gesturing to Phoebe’s eye. “You did manage to recover some of that shipment, right?”

Phoebe pulled the slightly bloodstained bundle from her backpack, unwrapping it to reveal the single syringe. 

“Ah,” Jack said, adjusting his glasses and taking up the thing. “Well at least it’s better than nothing.”

“What exactly is that for?” Phoebe asked.

Before he could answer the older woman threw up her hands. “How could you all engage in worthless small talk when my only daughter it lost out in that god forsaken wasteland? Jack, just who are these people you find so much more interesting than that?” she cried.

Air rushed impatiently through Jack’s nostrils. He stood aside and stretched an arm toward the woman. “Allow me to introduce my mother, Wilhelmina Cabot,” he said through clenched teeth. “Mother, these are the new employees I told you about.”

Wilhelmina’s nose wrinkled sh though she had caught a whiff of something foul as her piercing eyes slid between Phoebe and Hancock. “Well, if they work for you, perhaps instead of letting them gawk at me, you should have them do something useful and send them out to look for my daughter.”

“Who pissed in your caviar? We only almost died trying to run your little errands,” Hancock challenged. Phoebe looked at him, mortified. It was one thing to talk smack about the upper crust, but to do so directly in their face? It looked like violent fights weren’t the only kind he enjoyed. He was much braver than she was at least.

Wilhelmina’s eyes became slits, her mouth a thin line. When she spoke, her words dripped poison. “I don’t know who you think you are, ghoul, but if you wish to keep that infernal tongue of yours I suggest you get a better hold on it. I’ve lived far too long to put up with this kind of behavior from malnourished, irradiated little gutter ra—”

“Oh, mother, look at the time!” exclaimed Jack. “You’re late for your afternoon rest.” He grabbed her by the elbow and whisked her away to the stairs, calling for the maid. She hurried in and began helping Wilhelmina up the steps before the old woman shrugged out of her grip and climbed them herself, muttering “back in my days” as the maid bustled after her. 

Jack winced at Edward. “Can you take it from here?” he asked.

Edward nodded and Jack climbed after his mother, leaving the three of them alone.

“Good to know the clothes and title haven’t completely civilized you,” Edward said dryly to Hancock.

Hancock shot him a cheeky grin. “Nothing wrong with putting a bee in the rich’s bonnet every now and then. Remind them that not everyone’s willing to take their shit.”

“There’s no way I could ever do that,” Phoebe said, shaking her head. “She reminds me too much of my mother-in-law.”

“Before I set you two to the task at hand, your pay,” Edward said, handing both Hancock and Phoebe a tin that rustled with bottle caps. “One hundred and fifty caps to the both of you oughta cover the last job.”

“Actually, we still had some questions about the last job,” Phoebe started.

Edward raised a scarred hand. “No time for that now,” he said quickly. “People at the asylum are ready to revolt and it’s getting too much for Maria to handle on her own. I need to head over there to smooth things over. 

“In the meantime, I need the two of you to locate Jack’s younger sister, Emogene. It’s usually not a huge panic when she does this. Most of the time she’s off with a new boyfriend. You guys just need to find where she is and tell her it’s time to head back home.”

“What if she doesn’t want to come back?” asked Phoebe. If running away from home was a common occurrence, there had to be a reason for it.

“By the time I send someone out to look for her, she’s bored of her little playmate and ready to come home.” said Edward. “I’m sorry to spring this on you two right after what you’ve just dealt with, but there isn’t enough of us here to do everything.” He began ushering them to the foyer. “This job should be relatively simple, though. She usually hangs around Goodneighbor, I suggest you check there first.”

He shuffled them to the front door and wished them luck as the doorman pushed the door closed in their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha HA!! I return with a new chapter at last! It's a big, beefy one at that. Here's hoping it'll make up for how long it tool me to write. :P As always, hope y'all enjoyed!


	5. Emogene Decks a Lover

Edward wasn’t kidding when he said Emogene would be easy to find. though it did help that Hancock knew her. She passed through Goodneighbor’s front door on more than one occasion and the two of them shot each other the odd flirt from time to time. However, as rebellious as she liked to think she was, Emogene Cabot happened to be very predictable.

After getting a well deserved night’s sleep in Goodneighbor and replacing Phoebe’s chest piece, the first place they looked was the Third Rail, Emogene’s favourite haunt. They inquired Magnolia about her missing friend who, after making Phoebe completely flustered with her intoxicating charm, told them about a Brother Thomas whom Emogene had been courting the last time she saw her. 

Hancock had to admit he got a kick out of seeing Phoebe flush and trip over her words like the way she did with Maggie. Very similar to the odd conversation they had had at the creamery after he cleaned up the cut on her nose, though this time the blushing and stuttering made sense. The singer was a knockout. Phoebe’s stammering from the other day was most likely caused by pure exhaustion than anything else.

This Brother Thomas had been passing fliers around town advertising the religious group, the Pillars of the Community, though Hancock’s sources said it was more like a cult than anything legitimately saintly. Hancock saw it as no more than a hoax. A bunch of people claiming one will find true peace and happiness so long as they give up everything they owned? It sounded to him like someone was making big bank on some poor suckers.

If that were the case, he wasn’t all too happy about them not only advertising in Goodneighbor but also how close their home base was. The Charles View Amphitheater, the gathering place for this odd little organization, was just a few blocks from Goodneighbor. The last thing he wanted for his people was for them to get mixed up in some sham that’d make them even more penniless than they already were.

Hancock and Phoebe saw the smoke first. Coal-black billowed up and over the old buildings, bringing with it a thick stench that settled in your chest and scratched your throat raw. The source of the noxious cloud was a pile of tires set aflame in front of the amphitheatre. Both Hancock and Phoebe had to cover their noses and mouths.

“What about this says everlasting peace and happiness?” Phoebe muffled through her sleeve. 

She had a good point. The only thing that bonfire would accomplish was attracting the wrong kind of attention. Was getting ripped apart by super mutants a part of their practice? 

In front of the fire, the amphitheatre looked like a giant cereal bowl that had been jammed into the earth on its side by an otherworldly being. Perhaps one of Jack’s ancient aliens? Walls built from various bits of scrap divided the stage off into makeshift rooms and a dingy armchair was centred like a throne. People of various statuses loitered about the place. Drifters, raiders, upper stands, and gutter scabs. The whole crew was here, looking more lost than enlightened. 

As Hancock and Phoebe neared the amphitheatre, the man who was occupying the armchair launched himself from his seat and scurried around his apostles toward them like a rat navigating a clogged sewer system.

“Welcome, neighbours!” he called, waving an olive green fedora that matched his three-piece suit. He replaced the hat atop his greasy hair as he approached and flashed them a jack-o-lantern smile. Apparently Gross and Green were the aesthetics the guy was going for. “Always glad to see some new faces ‘round here.”

“Are you Brother Thomas?” Hancock asked, cutting to the chase. They weren’t here to buy whatever the hell these people were selling, but he was also interested to see what would happen if he didn’t let the guy get the upper hand in the conversation.

Cracks were already beginning to form in the man’s mask. His moustache quivered and fear flickered in his beady black eyes. What was the source of this sudden apprehension? It was obvious they had found their man, and he knew who Hancock was. Was he afraid the mayor was here to slap him around for dumping pamphlets all over his turf? Or did he know the Cabots were looking for their daughter and he was the prime suspect?

Thomas’ mouth twitched into another smile, attempting compose himself. “Sure am, Mayor Hancock, sir,” his voice cracking as he spoke the mayor’s name. “You and your friend here come lookin’ for a better life?”

“Actually, we’re here for Emogene Cabot,” said Phoebe. “We were told you two were seeing each other.”

More cracks. “E-Emogene? Oh yes, she’s… she’s here alright.”

“Could you take us to her? Her family would like for her to come home.”

“Home?” Thomas shrilled, nervously running his tongue across his teeth. “Oh, no. Oh, no no no, Emogene’s chosen the Community to be her new home. She’s in the—er—process of reaching level one. She cannot be interrupted at such a crucial moment.”

_ Level one? What a crock of bull. _

“But her family is really worried about her,” Phoebe wasn’t backing down, “surely we should be able to at least talk to her.”

Brother Thomas shifted to face Phoebe, purposely removing Hancock from his field of view. “ _ Well, _ the only way for you to see Emogene at this moment would be for you to agree to become a member of the community yourself, neighbour.”

“Wh-”

“Oh, yes. You look like someone who’s been through a world of pain,” Thomas dripped mock sympathy, pulling his hat from his head and placing it against his chest. His oily hair shone in the midday sun. “Wouldn’t you rather leave that life for a much happier one?”

“This really isn—”

“A life free of the guilt of losing your only child?”

That got to her. She had gone completely rigid as if Thomas’ words had turned her to stone. Colour draining from her shock stricken face even giving the impression of carved marble. Her lower jaw hung slack, unable to pull itself together to form words.

Brother Thomas prattled on. “It’s as simple as walking out of a room,” he said as though he was pitching a sale. “You relinquish all of your belongings, and you’re ready to enter level one; ‘the clean slate,’” he spread his hands dramatically, “You and Emogene would be able to converse as well. Just imagine how much happier you’d be if you just let everything go!”

That did it. Hancock was done watching this fuck try to worm his way into Phoebe’s head. He pulled his shotgun from the holster strapped to his leg, grabbed Thomas by the lapel of his jacket and whipped him round to shove the gun barrels under his chin. Thomas’ eyes bulged from their sockets and he threw his hands up in surrender. Back at the amphitheatre, disciples noticed their brother was potentially in danger and had risen to their feet. Several eyes weighed on Hancock as he snarled at the man. Phoebe hadn’t moved.

“Listen, slimeball,” Hancock growled. “We’re gonna leave here with Emogene Cabot whether you and your little scam operation fucking like it or not.” He shoved the gun further into the underneath of Thomas’ jaw. “Now unless you lot wanna spend the rest of the afternoon putting your ugly mug back together, I suggest you kill the intrusive bullshit and tell us where she is.”

There were several seconds where Thomas’s mouth was moving, but no actual noise was coming out. Perspiration dripped from the hair on his lip. Then, “Y-you know, Emogene and I haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately. Probably would be best if you fellas took her back home. L-let things cool off, yeah.”

Hancock shoved him away and he stumbled before catching himself. He jammed his fedora back on, crookedly, then stiffly motioned for them to follow. Hancock looked over at Phoebe. She still hadn’t moved, but she had managed to close her mouth. Her eyes coated in a distant glaze. 

“How did he know?” just barely a whisper.

“My guess is he read your exclusive in the Publick,” said Hancock, referring to the newspaper interview Phoebe had with the Publick Occurrences in Diamond City. It was a best seller for weeks.

Phoebe blinked as if she had just remembered Hancock was there. “Oh right, of course. He couldn’t have known…” she trailed off and followed after Brother Thomas.

Thomas lead them out behind the amphitheatre toward a back door. As he dug around in his pockets he said, “Emogene wasn’t all that... uh…  _ keen _ on joining and caused a bit of a scene. We thought it would be best if we left her alone to think the proposition over a spell.”

“You mean you locked her up when she tried to leave?” Hancock said, disgusted.

“More like so she wouldn’t try to kill me,” Thomas muttered as he slid a key into the lock. He pushed the door open and made to go inside then ducked just as something large hurdled through the air and smashed on the ground behind him. Judging from what pieces were still intact, Hancock deduced it was once a microwave oven. He and Phoebe exchanged a look.

“It’s about time you came back,” someone shouted from inside the building. “Did you come to let me go, or am I showing myself out?”

“Excellent news, kitten, your family’s sent an escort to take you home!” Thomas said, still folded up in a crouched position, arms over his head.

Taking the risk of getting beaned in the head by another appliance, Hancock approached the door and peered around the frame. It looked like someone had let a super mutant loose in the backstage office turned living space. Furniture upended, a broken lamp and other heavy objects littered the floor at the threshold, dents cratered the inside of the door. At the far end of the room stood a woman holding a dresser over her head as if it weighed nothing, poised to throw. Hancock had to guess that it was Emogene, though the way the swinging bulb on the ceiling cast shadows and pulled on her features, it was hard to tell. If it was her, her voice sounded hoarse, made him wonder how long she had been cooped up in there for. Not to mention the unfathomable strength she was exhibiting. 

“Emogene Cabot?” Phoebe asked, peering in from the opposite side of the doorframe.

“Who wants to know?” snapped the woman. Yeah, now that sounded more like Emogene. She still kept the dresser over her head. Just how in the hell was she doing that?

“Your valiant rescuers who are here to escort you home, fair maiden,” said Hancock.

The woman hesitated, then puffed an airy laugh and lowered the dresser to the floor. “Rescuers, right. You were the last person I thought my brother would hire, Mr. Mayor.” She sauntered toward them and into the sunlight pouring in from the opened door. Hancock’s eyebrows disappeared under his hat and he heard Phoebe gasp behind her hand.

She was Emogene Cabot alright, but she had changed since Hancock saw her last. She was still pretty in his eyes, what made her look different was that she seemed to have aged ten years. Laugh lines guarded the corners of her mouth and crows feet spidered from her eyes. Shocks of silver shone among the platinum blonde of her hair. Hancock racked his brains to try and remember the last time he had seen Emogene. He knew after a while ghouls lost track of the years, but surely not  _ that _ much time had passed.

“Perhaps a photograph for the two of you? It would certainly last longer,” Emogene said haughtily, planting her hands on her hips as if she did it professionally.

“I’m sorry,” said Phoebe, “It’s just that we thought Jack said you were his younger sister.”

“It’s probably hard to tell with that bum eye of yours,” Emogene retorted. Phoebe’s hand moved to her black eye.

“Now, now,” Hancock warned. “No need for that shit.”

Another airy laugh. “Alright,  _ Mr. Mayor _ ,” Emogene taunted. “But if you must know, I look like this because I haven’t had any of my medicine yet, no thanks to him.” She jabbed a chipped nail at the man still cowering on the floor.

With the attention turned on him, Brother Thomas shot up and dusted off his blazer with a nervous chuckle. “No hard feelings, Princess?”

“Oh,  _ no _ ,” Emogene’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You only locked me up against my will, there are no hard feelings at all.”

“So, uh, would you still be interested in getting your family to donate to our cause?” Thomas had the nerve to ask.

Emogene moved so quickly that Hancock almost didn’t see it. Like lightning she was in Thomas’ space, her fist slamming into the side of his face. He spun once before crumpling to the floor. Out cold.

Hancock and Phoebe stared in stunned silence, it felt like they were both doing that a lot these last few days.

Emogene straightened, turned and looked at them with a cocked brow. “What? He’ll be fine,” she said. “If I were my normal self he would probably be dead, though.”

“He’d be what?”

Emogene rolled her eyes. “Never mind, now are you two going to do what you came here to do or shall I just walk home myself?” Neglecting to wait for an answer she turned on her heel and stepped over Thomas’ body, exiting the back room with her nose to the air. Hancock and Phoebe followed close after.

Three Community members flocked over to Emogene asking what had happened to Brother Thomas and she ignored them. They turned their questions toward Phoebe and Hancock and he told them he was taking a nap on the nice cold floor. They bustled past them to the backroom.

“How well did you say you knew Emogene again?” Phoebe whispered to Hanock so the woman in front of them couldn’t hear.

Hancock scratched the back of his ear. “Well, I thought I had her pinned pretty good, now I’m starting to wonder if I can read people as well as I thought. Wasn’t like she was interested in telling people her life story, though.”

“Had she ever mentioned what kind of medication she’s on?”

Good to know they were both on the same page. “You thinkin’ she uses the same stuff we took off those raiders?”

“Well it can’t be Buffout, otherwise she’d show a lot more muscle. That’s how Buffout works, right?”

Hancock nodded.

Phoebe continued, “And I doubt she’s exaggerating when she says she can kill a man with one punch.”

“Sounds like another question to add to the li…” Hancock trailed off as they passed by a Community member sitting in the dirt.

He looked young under the grime on his sallow face, in his early twenties at most. Just a kid. A kid with shaggy straw-coloured hair, puffy, sleepless eyes and the physique of a bean plant. He was hunkered as close to the tire fire as he could without suffocating, smoke bitten tears left marks on his cheeks. He was too occupied with stuffing Cram into his mouth between coughs to notice the commotion of his brethren.

A pit formed in Hancock’s stomach that grew to the size of a canyon as he stared at the boy. It was as though he was looking at an alternate life. A version of himself that, if the Community had been around at the time, had turned to empty promises brought forth from a counterfeit prophet rather than mind-numbing chemicals. Sorrow and regret welled up from the canyon and evolved into panic. For a moment he feared that he would be grabbed by this second reality and become forever trapped within its grasp and plunged back into the darkest part of himself he tried so desperately to escape from.

“Hancock, are you okay?” Phoebe asked. She looked from him to the Community runt then back at him. “Do you know them?”

Hancock pinched his eyes shut and rubbed at them with a thumb and pointer finger. “Nah, sister, just thought I saw a ghost is all,” he said. Phoebe looked back to the boy and furrowed her brow.

Finally, Hancock uprooted his feet and stepped toward the boy. He startled slightly as Hancock approached, dropping a clump of Cram from his fingers. Hancock pulled a small sack from an inner pocket of his jacket and dropped it into his lap. It jingled as it landed and the boy sucked Cram from his fingers to open it up. Inside revealed several bottle caps. He looked up inquiringly at Hancock.  

“Get yourself cleaned up, brother, this hole ain’t gonna do it for you,” he said looking into the boy’s massive eyes. He then turned back to Phoebe, who was waiting where he had left her, looking thoughtfully at the boy. “C’mon, we’re gonna lose sight of Emogene,” he said as he passed.

The walk back to the Cabot property was a quiet one. Emogene kept several paces ahead as if she didn’t want to be seen with Hancock and Phoebe, or to at least pretend she wasn’t being led home like some kid that got caught sneaking out.

“That was really nice of you to give those caps to that boy,” said Phoebe at last.

“Everyone needs a leg up once in a while,” Hancock replied.

She nodded and went back to thinking whatever it was she was thinking about. Typically, Hancock would have inquired what those thoughts were, but he wasn’t really in the mood for deep conversation at the moment.

Seeing that Community runt ha hit him in the place he didn’t like. It knocked on the door in his brain he kept locked tight or at least tried to depending on the day. Today that door only opened a crack, and it was still enough to flood Hancock with the bad thoughts he had squirrelled away inside. A few faces flashed behind his eyes with pangs of guilt following close behind.

Hancock squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to force the images out. When that didn’t work he searched for his emergency bottle of Day Tripper. Finding it in another inner jacket pocket, Hancock twisted the lid and shook a lemon-coloured pill into the withered palm of his hand. He popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry. The chem would activate quicker if he had something to wash it down with, but even just the knowledge of having taken it already put his mind at ease. He could tell Phoebe was watching him from the corner of his eye, and when he looked over to her she quickly looked away.

It didn’t take much to figure out Phoebe wasn’t a huge fan of chems, he knew from the start way back when he had first invited her for a drink and told her a bit about his past. The shock on her face when he told her about all the reckless binges he tore through in his adolescence spelled it out pretty clearly. Since then he has tried to keep using to a minimum whenever she was around so as not to make her uncomfortable. He liked having her around.

Though up until recently, he hadn’t seen much of her since she was doing work around town with that MacCready kid and the need to be mindful slipped. Not to mention he really needed a fix right about now.

He broke the awkward silence. “I hope you don’t mind me taking a trip for a bit, I just need to settle the ole thinkin’ machine.”

Phoebe answered a little too quickly. “Oh, no it’s fine. I don’t mind,” she said, still not looking at him. He knew she wanted to say more, but held back. What was she going to say? Guilt was rearing its ugly head again. Hancock tried not to dwell on it while he waited for the Tripper to kick in.

By the time they passed through the Cabots’ front gate, Hancock was in much better spirits. The topiaries growing within the front lawn of the property beamed leafy smiles at him and he was half tempted to smile and wave back up to them. The footman opened the door for them and expressed exuberant greetings toward Emogene to which she replied with a toss of her hair and an airy sniff and made for the stairs leading to where Hancock guessed the bedrooms were. He warbled a witty goodbye at her back and she shot him a counter remark over her shoulder, making the footman’s nostrils flair in disdain. Phoebe tugged lightly on Hancock’s sleeve to get him to follow her to the parlour.

The room was all a buzz with static pouring from the ham radio Jack and Wilhelmina were huddled around. The buzzing tickled the inside of Hancock’s ears, he lazily shoved a pinky finger into one of them to try and get it to stop. A voice could be heard through the crackle, but barely loud enough for Hancock to hear.

“Little sis is safe and sound thanks to us truly,” he sang, slinging an arm around Phoebe’s shoulder and flourishing with the other.

Jack batted a hand at them to be quiet as he fiddled with the dials. Wilhelmina was noticeably silent. That was weird. Usually, those two don’t like to shut up.

“Edward? Can you hear me better on this station? Edward, are you still there?” Jack asked into the handheld microphone.

Edward’s voice fizzled in and out of focus.

_ czzt  _ “—too many—”  _ czzt _ “—weren’t prepared—”  _ czzt _ “—inside the building—”  _ czzt _

A collection of loud pops sounded through the speakers. Wilhelmina gasped and covered her nose and mouth with her hands.

Edward’s voice came in clearer. “Dammit! We need you to send more help, we aren’t gonna last much longer.” Another pop sounded, followed by a crash and a groan, then static filled the air once more.

“Edward? Edward!” Jack called out and fiddled with the dials once more.

Edward’s voice didn’t come back.

“Drat! Drat it all!” Jack cried as he thumped the top of the radio with his fist.

“What’s happened?” asked Phoebe, making both Jack and Wilhelmina jump. They had already forgotten she and Hancock had returned.

“Is Emogene safe? Did you find her?” said Wilhelmina, clutching her hands to her chest.

“Yes, she’s back home now,” Phoebe reassured.

The older woman was so relieved she seemed to deflate like a balloon. Hancock’s mind’s eye created a scene where she did just that and even made the funny sound as she whizzed about the room. Hancock giggled.

“Was that Edward’s voice just now? Is he alright?” Phoebe quickly asked to mask the laughter. Partly because she was probably embarrassed, and partly because she most likely wanted to help. Phoebe was nice like that.

“There’s no time to explain,” said Jack. “I need the two of you to accompany me to the asylum immediately.”

He attempted to brush passed them as Hancock held out a sluggish arm. “Hey, where’s the fire, my man? The lady asked you a question,” he slurred.

Jack looked at Hancock with a start. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope, but I sure as hell ain’t sober either.”

Jack gaped. “Really? Lucifer’s balls, of all the most inopportune times!” He took a deep breath and lifted his glasses to slide a hand down his face. “It’s fine. This is fine. You can sober up on the way there.”

“Actually,” Phoebe said, moving around Hancock to stand in the other man’s way. “You still didn’t answer my question. And I would like to know just what it is you need us so badly for.”

“This isn’t the time for—”

Phoebe gave Jack a look that even made Hancock bite his tongue, even though he wasn’t the one talking.

Jack huffed an impatient breath. “I suppose you deserve to know what’s going on, but we really are pressed for time so I’ll tell you what’s currently happening now, then explain the rest on the way there. Those raiders that were holed up in that old creamery were actually a fraction of a much larger gang lead by a man calling himself Bullseye. 

“We speculate that when he found the raiders left at the camp were killed he decided to launch a counter raid on the asylum. Edward was already there helping Captain Maria settle her men when they were caught unawares. There is important technology within that building and we cannot let the raiders get to it.”

Edward pulled back the sleeve of his lab coat to read his wristwatch. “Is that explanation substantial enough for you?”

Phoebe bit her lip thinking it over. Hancock hoped she understood what Jack had said because there was just too much brain fog for him to follow along. If only it were Mentats that he had taken instead.

Phoebe came to her conclusion. “For now,” she said.

“We can work with that,” said Jack. “Now we really must be going.”

He made to bustle them out of the parlour when Wilhelmina tugged at his sleeve. “Jack, what will you do if… if they find him? If they set him free?”

Jack laid a hand over his mother’s. “Whatever needs to be done,” he said. She paled then found her way to a chair and sank into it. She looked older than Hancock had ever seen of her in the short time he had known her.

Jack chattered at Hancock to pick up the pace and pushed him out of the parlour and into the entryway, though instead of going out the front door Jack steered them down a hallway by the staircase Emogene still happened to be standing on. Her complexion was just as colourless as her mother’s. She must have heard everything.

The three of them passed by more of those odd paintings of the Cabots that were older than they should have been until they came to a door that lead into a large garage. Inside was a collection of vehicles all hidden under canvas covers save for one of those big pre-war trucks that looked like a big box and carried either people or products. Jack took up a set of keys from a metal box by the door and motioned them to follow him to the back of the truck. He unlocked the rear double doors and told Phoebe and Hancock to get in. As soon as they were both piled inside Jack closed the doors and hurried to the front seat and brought the vehicle to life.

Giddiness bubbled up within Hancock as the truck shook and purred. He had only ridden in a working vehicle a couple times in his life.

Loud humming came from outside. A look through the back window told Hancock that Jack had opened the large garage door. Phoebe pulled Hancock onto the bench beside her just as the truck lurched backward. They both braced themselves as the truck heaved this way and that before bumping down the road.

Hancock’s stomach did somersaults and he groaned. The giddiness had turned to nausea. Phoebe looked at him and her eyes widened as much as her swollen one would let her.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he croaked.

A crease formed between Phoebe’s brows. “I’m the one who should be asking  _ you _ that. Your face is turning green!”

The truck hit a bump and Hancock’s gut rose and fell with it.

“Apparently Day Tripper and moving vehicles are a bad mix for me,” he said. The truck drove over another bump and he covered a belch with his hand. Phoebe winced.

A window at the front slid open revealing Jack at the wheel. “Alright,” he said, looking back at them through the rearview mirror, “I should start at the beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA Hello I'm not dead!! I can't believe it's been over a friggen' month since the last update! I'd like to say that it won't happen again, but with college back up and running, posting regularily will be out of the question for me ^^; Do not fret, though! I still plan to see this project to the end and if I need to stop writing for a good long while I'll be sure to let you all know. 
> 
> That all being said, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and that it was worth the wait! Shit's about to go down in Cabot town! >:0 Also I don't really know how drugs work, so hopefully I wrote Hancock's day trip well enough. Until next time! ^^


	6. Down the Darkened Corridor

“Back when we first met, I told you both about my father’s research, correct?” Jack asked. The truck engine revved as he sped further from the city.

“Yes,” said Phoebe as she held tight to the bench she was sitting on. Jack wasn’t the best driver in the Commonwealth. “You mentioned an excursion to Arabia, how could he have done that after the bombs fell?” Finally, she was getting an answer to the question niggling at the back of her mind.

“By making the journey centuries before.” 

Before Phoebe could say anything back, Jack ran over something making the truck jump. The cabinets and compartments in the back rattled. Hancock held his face in his hand and groaned, his other arm wrapped around his stomach. Phoebe braced herself and chanced a look in the cabinets across from them. If Hancock was going to toss his cookies, she wanted a better alternative than the floor or herself.

She slid a door aside and gaped at the contents within. For a moment she believed that they were riding in an old police SWAT vehicle, but on closer inspection of the weapons inside the cubby, there was no way the police would have this kind of equipment.  Plasma type guns were strapped to the back wall of the compartment and plasma grenades sat snuggly in fitted trays. These weapons looked a lot different than the ones Phoebe had seen before; bulkier and with a sickly yellow glow as opposed to the usual green. Perhaps something of Jack’s creation?

Phoebe carefully slid the cabinet door closed. That wasn’t what she was looking for. She moved to a larger cupboard that held bulletproof vests and other armoured gear. Pulling a helmet from a top shelf, Phoebe closed the door again and fell back in her seat as Jack hit another bump. She tapped Hancock on the shoulder and handed him the upturned helmet as he looked up, pointing a finger at her open mouth, then at the inside of the helmet. He grimaced and nodded a silent “Thanks.” Phoebe gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“What do you mean exactly?” she asked as she turned her attention back to the driver in the little window. “Is your father from before the war?”

“Much earlier than that. Our entire family is about four hundred years old.”

Silence.

_Four hundred?_ Phoebe couldn’t believe it. Or could she? After all, she was over two centuries old. But as far as she knew, the cryogenic freezing of her family and neighbours was an experiment of Vault-Tec’s, meaning that it hadn’t been perfected yet. How could someone pull it off even earlier?

“Did I hear him say what I thought I heard him say?” Hancock’s voice echoed off of the inside of the helmet.

“But how is that possible?” Phoebe asked, too focused on learning more to answer Hancock’s question.

“As I said before, my father, Lorenzo Cabot, found an ancient city in the Arabian desert. One of the few artifacts he brought back was an amulet embedded into a type of crown. It possessed abilities far greater than any of us could comprehend. Hold tight, I have to go offroad for a spell.”

The truck made a sharp veer to the right, nearly throwing Phoebe and Hancock from their seats. Phoebe braced one hand and a foot on the cabinets in front of her and gripped Hancock’s shoulder with the other hand to steady him. He moaned again and tightened his hold around the helmet. Phoebe hoped they would reach their destination soon. Partly so that Hancock’s nausea would ease, and partly so that the back of the truck remained clean for the rest of the journey.

The driving steadied a little and Jack continued, “The amulet gave my father these abilities, everlasting life, powerful telekinesis, and superhuman strength. We later discovered that the artifact had even altered his genetic makeup and that serum could be made from his blood. I called it compound Z3-T4. It was most likely the closest we’d ever get to the elixir of life. It’s what’s been keeping our entire family alive all for all these years. It’s what the raiders stole from us and are likely after right this minute as well.

“However, these gifts came at a heavy price for Lorenzo. As time went on, my father’s mental health deteriorated. He became aggressive to the point where he became dangerous. We tried to get him to see reason, that this thing was doing more harm than good, but he refused to listen. 

“It was when he had gone on a rampage and killed five people in 1898 that we had to lock him up. My family bought the Parsons State Insane Asylum and hid Lorenzo away deep within its bowels inside a cell that kept his telekinetic powers at bay. I ran the asylum and took in other patients to keep up appearances until the bombs dropped during the Great War.”

“But if the crown was such a danger to himself and others, why not just take it from him?” Phoebe asked.

“Oh, don’t think we haven’t tried that,” Jack said dryly. “We did everything we could to separate the artifact from my father, but the thing had fused itself to his head. We attempted its removal through surgery and it nearly killed Lorenzo in the process. He was in a coma for three weeks after that. The thing had somehow tapped into his life force, making it fatal to remove—hold on!”

Before they could do just that Phoebe and Hancock were thrown from their seats and tossed about the back of the truck. Their heads crashed together and Phoebe saw stars as she heard metallic pinging against the outside of the truck. The vehicle accelerated and the pelting stopped.

“Sorry,” said Jack, “there wasn’t always a super mutant camp there.”

“You know, we aren’t gonna be of much use to ya if you keep tossing us around like that!” Hancock yelled as he disentangled himself from Phoebe’s legs.

“Well, I have difficulty talking and driving at the same time.” snapped Jack. “You two wanted answers, so you’re just going to have to deal with it. Anyway, I developed a machine that kept Lorenzo’s powers in check and, with the aid of law enforcement, kept the truth of his condition a secret for centuries while I could find a way to turn compound Z3-T4 into something to counter the artifact’s negative effects. Up until the Great War, that is.

“After the bombs dropped, Edward, one of the few to remain under my employ, hired mercenaries to guard the asylum to keep wastelanders from finding my father. My family sought multiple methods of acquiring income—trade caravans, selling gold and technology and so on—to be able to pay these people. So far that’s worked for years, and then we come to today. I always knew we were preventing the inevitable, but it’s still difficult to process that this is all happening already.”

The cab of the truck fell silent for the rest of the way to the asylum. Jack announced their arrival with a gasp. Phoebe moved closer to the little window and peered through the windshield. She let out a gasp of her own.

The courtyard of the asylum painted a grisly portrait of the aftermath of battle. Dead bodies littered the ground and structures were pockmarked with bullet holes. The area where the trailers were situated was on fire. Phoebe’s stomach fell. If an entire camp of mercenaries couldn’t stand a chance against these raiders, what good would the three of them be?

The truck rolled to a stop and Jack jumped out of the cab. Hancock was on his feet as soon as the vehicle ceased to move and hurdled through the back doors, nearly plowing into Jack in the process. He ran over to a nearby van and hunched behind it. Phoebe didn’t need to guess what he was doing.

Jack shook his head and turned back to the truck and hopping in. He opened and shut cabinets, pulling out what he needed and piling it into Phoebe’s arms. When Hancock staggered back to them Jack distributed some of the gear to him and began to suit himself up with one of the bulletproof vests, tossing his lab coat into the back of the truck. He picked up a plasma rifle and held it up for both Phoebe and Hancock to see.

“I modified these weapons to be used in case a crisis like this were to happen. They’re powerful enough to stop those under the effects of compound Z3-T4 in their tracks.”

“Have you tested them before?” Phoebe asked.

“Well… no, not exactly,” said Jack, “but there’s enough power behind them that they should come in handy. Think of it as though a plasma rifle and a gauss rifle were spliced together.”

So Phoebe would have to keep from getting ripped apart by drugged up raiders and from being knocked off her feet by her gun. Here’s hoping she had enough practice with her Big Mama, her own gauss rifle, to keep the latter from happening. Otherwise, this mission showed a lot of promise in going very wrong.

As Hancock took up a Cabot rifle from Jack, Phoebe held a vest out to him. When he made to argue she shook her head. “Nuh-uh, I don’t care what that coat of yours is made of, you’re wearing it.”

He considered it for a second as if still trying to process what she was saying through what was left of the fog in his brain, then nodded and took up the vest. While he shrugged off his coat, Phoebe checked the straps to her new chest piece. The pale green didn’t go with the polymer white of the rest of her armour, but she wasn’t worried about that now. She could fix it to match better after they lived through this. If they lived through this.

Once everyone was geared up with various guns, bombs and ammo Jack took up point and led them toward the front doors of the asylum. Phoebe tried her best not to look down at the dead scattered about the yard while at the same time making sure not to step on any.  Bumper stickers on combat green caught the corner of her eye and she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowing to keep from getting sick.

A body sat in front of the double doors. It was Captain Maria. Her face was slack with her grey lips parted slightly and her eyes stared forward in eternal shock.

Jack shook his head. “They all fought valiantly, but if we move quickly their death won’t be in vain.”

He pulled open the door Maria wasn’t propped against and they all stepped inside. It was dark, eerily quiet as though the whole building was holding its breath. Phoebe risked turning her Pip-Boy flashlight on and flashed the white glow about the lobby. If the place wasn’t smattered with blood and gore it would have looked rather nice. Not as primped and polished as the Cabot house, though it still looked as if the place was cleaned regularly.

There was no sign of life other than the three of them. Bodies lay across the floor and over desks and furniture, their deathly aroma choking out the fresh air in the room. Phoebe brought her free wrist over her nose. Hancock was already not feeling well, they couldn’t afford her to be sick too. She looked Hancock’s way and could tell through the gloom that he was turning green again.

Jack stepped lightly to the elevator at the right side of the lobby and tried the button. Nothing. The lights weren’t even on to indicate it was working. “They cut the power to the elevators,” he said.

He moved across the room to a set of double doors, signalling for them to follow. Phoebe and Hancock stood at either side of him, rifles at the ready in case someone was waiting for them on the other side. Jack turned the handles and pulled. The doors opened a fraction before being stopped by an unseen force. The metallic jingling coming from the other side signalled to them that they had been chained shut. Jack swore.

“Come on, we’ll have to take the long way.”

They followed him through a hallway out of the lobby toward a small garden in the middle of the building. Phoebe powered off her flashlight as they approached. The afternoon sun was sinking to evening, casting a pink veil over the little yard. Through the broken windows, Phoebe spotted raiders silently patrolling around the dried-up fountain and on the scaffolding at the far wall.

Jack pulled the pin from a Cabot grenade and lobbed it through the window. It landed at a raider’s feet and exploded into yellow plasma taking out both the raider and half of the fountain. The second raider was hit with debris and knocked to the floor, but Phoebe couldn’t tell if he was dead. The raiders on the scaffolding hollered to one another and opened fire in their direction, causing the three of them to duck down to safety.

They waited until it was silent again before returning fire, hoping the raiders had stopped to reload. A bullet zinged passed Phoebe’s ear as she lined up a shot. She kept her panic in check as she pulled the trigger only to be launched across the hallway. She thumped against a wall and fell into a heap on the tile floor.

_Oh._

She snatched up her rifle and crawled back to her hiding spot and took a moment to bring air back to her lungs. These guns had way more power behind them than the gauss rifle she was used to. When she was breathing properly again Phoebe risked a peek to see what damage she had done, if any.

There was a dent in the far upper wall of the garden dripping yellow plasma round the edges. Part of the scaffolding had also been damaged. A crumpled form lay beneath covered in broken wood. At least her blunder was effective.

“Don’t aim for the scaffolding! That’s our ticket to get further into the asylum,” Jack snapped just as a bullet embedded itself in the window frame above his head, showering his hair in plaster dust.

_Okay, not effective,_ Phoebe thought.

It didn’t take long for them to kill the remaining two raiders. The one that had fallen over when the grenade detonated had gotten the better of Hancock, who was also struggling to use his gun and had to be helped by Jack. The odd scientist was the one doing most of the killing. The lack of help Phoebe and Hancock were to him became a knot of guilt that nestled in Phoebe’s gut. This day wasn’t going to end well if this kept up.

The three of them loaded their weapons and waited for any backup to arrive.

Silence.

“The rest of them must be deeper in the asylum already,” said Jack. “I don’t like that at all.”

They hurried across the garden and clambered up the scaffolding. Phoebe’s rogue shot had taken a large section of the wood panel floor at the top and they had to jump across to keep the rest of it from collapsing. Hancock misjudged the distance and landed on a weak point. There was a small creak closely followed by a snap and the ghoul broke through.

Phoebe dove and caught his hand at the last moment. His weight made her arm snap straight and her muscles screamed. She reached her other hand to grasp his wrist and stuck her feet out to either side of the scaffolding to hook the tops of her toes on the metal frame. Hancock looked up at her with dark eyes wider than planets.

“I’ve got you,” Phoebe grunted.

For how long, though, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that he was heavy, but that she lacked the upper body strength to pull him up herself. She was wiggling around trying to see if she could use her secured feet to drag them both up when a pair of lightly dusted dress shoes stepped around her and an arm reached down and grabbed the collar of Hancock’s coat.

Jack heaved him up with one hand and stood him on his feet. Phoebe, still on her belly, twisted to stare in awe. She couldn’t see Hancock’s face, but she guessed that he was doing the same. Jack huffed and told them to hurry up before climbing into the open wall.

Phoebe made to stand up when a marred hand appeared in front of her face. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. As she stood she came close enough to his face to look into his eyes. Though pitch black at a distance, she could see that his irises were a deep grey. The same colour as the clouds when a thunderstorm is about to roll in.

Phoebe felt an odd comfort as if she could smell the rain and hear it pattering on a tin roof while the warm air hugged her close and made her skin prickle with electricity. She thought she heard rolling thunder then quickly realized it was Hancock clearing his throat.

Phoebe blinked and stepped back, apologizing.

“‘S no trouble,” he said, avoiding her eye as he placed his hat back onto his head. Somehow he had managed to keep a hold of it when he fell.

“Are you alright, by the way? Feeling any better?”

Hancock shrugged a shoulder and adjusted his bulletproof vest. “Let’s just say today ain’t my day.” He finally looked up at her and she could see the sorrow in his eyes. He gestured to the broken scaffolding and said, “Thank you for that.”

Phoebe smiled at him. “It’s about time I was the one that helped _you_ out of a bind,” she said.

That got a chuckle out of him. He was about to say more when Jack’s face reappeared through the hole in the wall.

“What on earth are you two doing? Did you not hear me say we’re running short on time?” he shrilled.

He disappeared again with Phoebe and Hancock following close behind. As they hurried through the old building it became very easy to tell what areas were still in use and which weren’t. Quality plummeted at each turn with the ceiling and floors collapsed in sections and paper peeling from the walls. Phoebe wondered if the stench of wood rot and dust was safe to breathe.

Few raiders were crossing their path, though it was obvious that they had come through the same corridors. Bodies and fresh blood added to the macabre atmosphere. No Halloween haunted house could have compared to the real thing. What used to be a cafeteria before the floor gave way to the level below held the first signs of life the three had seen since the garden. Unfortunately, it wasn’t anyone friendly.

This time they were all able to make short work of the raiders. Phoebe remembered to properly brace herself and didn’t get blown back down the hallway by her gun again. Once the path was clear they slid down the collapsed floor to the area below.

“My office is on this floor,” Jack said. “We’ll head there first to see if we can take the lift down to where Lorenzo’s cell is.”

Just as they rounded a corner they caught a raider kicking open a door, splinters scattering this way and that. The four behind him noticed Phoebe and the others and were about to shoot when Jack beat them to it and blew them away with a few quick shots.

As their bodies fell Jack hurtled into the room they were breaking into with Phoebe and Hancock followed close behind. The office was well kept save for the odd bit of clutter and the man bleeding on the floor. Phoebe gasped.

It was Edward.

A woman, who Phoebe recognized to be Truck, knelt at his side brandishing a pistol. When she realized who it was that had come in she relaxed and went back to tending Edward’s wounds.

“Edward! Thank goodness you’re alright!” cried Jack.

“Last I checked, getting shot all to hell was far from alright,” muttered Truck. Blood ran down the side of her face from where one of her eyebrow piercings had been torn out.

Phoebe knelt beside her and dug in her backpack for her first aid kit. She placed it opened on the floor next to Truck and told her to use whatever she needed. The woman offered her thanks and dove into the kit for cleaning and stitching supplies.

“I’ll be ok,” Edward coughed. “Maybe.”

“What happened?” asked Hancock.

Truck spoke as she dabbed gauze at Edward’s side. “What does it look like happened? We got overrun and now it’s just us left.”

Jack was bent over a terminal at his desk and the frantic tapping of keys filled the room alongside Edward’s laboured breathing.

“We managed to disable the elevator so they had to take the long way down,” said Edward. “If you hurry you still might be able to catch them.”

“What about the stores? Have they found them?” asked Jack. Edward answered with a wince and Jack swore. “That’ll make stopping them a lot harder. It’ll take all of us that’s for certain. Are you able to stand, Edward?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I can’t, Jack,” said Edward almost sounding amused.

“Stand?” Truck cried. “He just barely held off an entire raider gang without dying and now you’re asking him to keep going?”

“Please, you don’t understand how crucial this is,” argued Jack.

“Christ, does the guy look like he’s in any shape to fight?” Hancock piped up.

He didn’t. And neither did Truck in Phoebe’s eyes. She knew how important it was that the raiders were stopped, but making the beaten and wounded fight was cruel. “Rest up here, then if you’re able to, get Edward and yourself out of here. We cleared the way so you shouldn’t have to worry about more raiders,” she told Truck.

Jack was about to argue more, then snapped his mouth shut and threw up his hands at the three pairs of dirty looks shot his way. “Alright, fine. Get Edward out and wait by the truck,” he pointedly handed Edward the keys. “If we don’t come back within the next hour and a half, go back to the house and get Mother and Emogene. Then get as far away as you can.”

Truck screwed up her face in confusion. She still must not have been told the truth.

“Be careful, Jack,” said Edward through another wince as Truck began to stitch his side. Jack nodded and hurried out of the office.

Hancock lightly clapped Edward on the shoulder. “Don’t go dyin’ on us, Eddie.”

“Same goes for you two,” Edward looked between him and Phoebe. “And please keep Jack safe. I know what you’re thinking, but he really does mean well. Immortality messes with your morality a bit. ”

Truck scoffed. Phoebe wanted to ask Edward why he was so loyal to Jack, but time was of the essence. She left her medical kit with Truck and hurried out with Hancock.

They were running into more and more raiders than before, this time it was evident that they had taken the serum. Phoebe resorted to simply throwing Cabot grenades then shooting at anything that still moved afterward until it didn’t anymore. As if killing wasn’t already hard enough for her to do, now some superhuman serum had to make the act even worse.

Not only did the place gradually fill with raiders, but the further into the bowels of the asylum they went, the more like a dungeon it felt. They descended a flight of steps into a corridor made almost entirely out of naked concrete save for the heavy metal doors and flickering bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

The hall felt eerily cold, which the rational part of Phoebe’s brain explained was because of how far below ground they probably were. The hairs standing on the back of her neck and the goosebumps pimpling her skin, however, made her think otherwise.

“Gosh, this place is spooky,” she said as they walked passed the cells. Her eyes darted all about the corridor to keep watch for enemies, but she couldn’t look a second longer at the small windows on the cell doors in case something ghostly looked back.

“This is where we used to keep patients with extreme cases,” said Jack.

“All the way down here?” squeaked Phoebe, appalled. “Why?”

“They were less of a danger to themselves and others this way.”

Hancock swiped a sleeve over a dusted window and pressed his face against the glass. “I’m no brain doctor, but locking a person in a cold grey box doesn’t sound like treatment to me —wait,” he said as he pressed his face so close to the window his hat was just barely sitting on the back of his head. “What _did_ you do with all your patients?”

Phoebe furrowed her brow. What was Hancock getting at? Did he see something?

Jack’s stride faltered as his whole body seemed to tense up. “We really need to go, how many times are you going to hold us up?”

“Answer the fucking question, Jack.”

The man sighed. “My main priority is keeping my father from hurting everyone else.”

“And that’s a good enough reason to let all these people fucking die?” Hancock roared.

Phoebe’s body filled with ice from her toes to the crown of her skull. It shouldn’t have taken her this long to realize. None of the cell doors were open to indicate that an evacuation had once taken place. She turned on her Pip-Boy flashlight and moved toward the nearest cell on her right. She didn’t want to, but she had to see for herself.

Shining the light around the small room revealed a shrivelled form curled up on the floor below the door window. She gasped and staggered back. Revulsion crawled across her skin and tickled the lining of her stomach. Though not an actual stranger to mummified corpses, the wasteland was abundant with them, the circumstances in how it, and most likely others, had gotten there was what unsettled her. Of all the brutal ways to die in this world, Phoebe believed this to be the worst.

How alone this poor soul must have felt trapped in a cold dark room with nothing but their neighbours’ screams and wails bouncing off the walls. How scared they were as hunger clawed at their bellies and thirst tightened their throats. There was a good chance that these people didn’t even know what was happening above ground. Would anyone have told them? Phoebe tried to force the thoughts and images from her mind, but to no avail. This was far more frightening than any ghost.

Jack stood quietly as if looking for the right words. He looked like a child whose mother found the broken vase he had hidden from her. “The thing about living as long as I have,” he began carefully, “is that time seems to get away from you. It was never my intention to let these people die. They didn’t have families to go home to, they were safe from the bombs down here. I had meant to see to them once Lorenzo’s cell was stabilized, but the wait for the radiation outside took longer to dissipate than we initially thought. There was nothing we could do.”

“But you made all these things,” Phoebe held up her Cabot rifle, “surely you could have at least tried to find a way to get to them.”

“We were more focussed on making sure Lorenzo couldn’t get out,” said Jack. He was starting to sound like a broken record. “Unfortunately they weren’t at the forefront of our minds.”

“So you just forgot about them?” Phoebe cried.

“I don’t like to call it that.”

“But that’s exactly what you did,” Hancock spat. He was angry. More angry than Phoebe had ever seen. “Out of sight, out of mind. As long as there wasn’t anybody around after to call you out on it, it ain’t no skin off your teeth. It’s always the same fucking thing.”

“Ensuring that Lorenzo’s c—”

“Yeah, yeah, save many at the cost of few. Whatever makes you feel better,” Hancock growled. He pushed past Jack, stomping toward the other end of the corridor. “Let’s get this shit over with. I’m getting sick of looking at you.”

Phoebe began to follow and looked at Jack as she passed. He looked guilty, though not as much as he should have. More like he was sore at being barked at rather than remorseful for what he had done, or hadn’t done. What Edward had said about immortality and morality scratched at the back of her mind, yet Phoebe really couldn’t agree with the phrase. She had met a lot of people who were as close to immortal as one could get to the real thing and not all of them would shrug something like this off. Jack had his priorities, and anything that didn’t fall under those priorities didn’t matter.

“Does Edward know?” Phoebe asked him, stopping and waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” said Jack. “I never told him that the bodies are still here, however.”

_At least half the truth is better than none of the truth,_ Phoebe thought, _though the full one would have been better._ “When this is over you bury every one of them. Properly. And not just the people down here, but all of the ones who died helping you, too.”

She continued walking and this time it was Jack bringing up the rear.

Several more corridors and staircases later, they finally came to a laboratory of sorts. The lights were off if that was because they had burnt out or were simply turned off, Phoebe didn’t know. Flashing lights poured through an open doorway across the space accompanied by the sounds of alarms. Over the harsh beeps, the shouts and hollers of people could also be made out. Jack bolted across the lab toward the cacophony followed by Phoebe and Hancock.

The room looked like it was used both as a control room and for observation. Buttons and dials hummed and twinkled different colours on panels set into the walls and a wide square window took up the entirety of one wall. Through the glass, Phoebe could see a large box-like structure set in the middle of the room with windows on each side and large towers emitting a purple glow perched on top. Inside the box stood an older man in old fashioned formal wear with a large hat atop his head. Raiders milled about the area outside the box messing with more control panels. The old man, Lorenzo, could be heard through speakers egging them on.

“Yes, that’s it!” he praised. “The sooner I am free, the sooner you all will be rewarded.”

A raider was fiddling with the buttons on a large console in front of the observation window, probably trying to turn the alarms off before Jack blew his head off. The sounds of gunshot brought forth the attention of everyone in the chamber. Jack hurried to the console and shoved the fresh body aside to access the controls. As the alarm disabled, Lorenzo faced the observation room with his arms spread in welcome.

“Ah, at last, my son finally comes back to visit me.” He said. “I was beginning to think you no longer cared for me, Jack.”

As Phoebe came closer to the observation window her jaw almost knocked against the console. When Jack said that he tried removing the odd headgear from Lorenzo’s head, it never sunk in what he meant. It was as though the older man’s head was trying to swallow it up like a malformed snake; flesh from his scalp made its way up and over the rim of the odd-looking crown toward the round object resembling a beetle set in its long flat center.

“See all the new friends I have made?” Lorenzo swept a hand toward the raiders. “It’s been so long since I’ve had new people visit me. And they’re so kind as to agree to let me out! Why aren’t you so kind to me, Jack?” His sunken eyes crinkled in mock hurt.

The raider with a bullseye painted around his right eye, Phoebe didn’t have to guess who he was, brought up his middle fingers at the three of them and yelled at his companions. The words were muffled through the glass, only Lorenzo’s cell had a microphone connection, but it was obvious that he told his men to keep working as they left the window and went back to work powering down the cell.

“Father, these people aren’t here to help you, they’re here to use you!” Jack spoke through a microphone on the console. He turned to Phoebe and Hancock. “There’s nothing I can do from here to stop them. They’ve already shut too much off. I hate to say this, but the only way for us to finish this is for the two of you to go in there and turn everything back on.”

“Are you fucking nuts? We’ll be torn to shreds!” said Hancock.

“I’m sorry, if circumstances were different, I wouldn’t put the two of you in any more danger than I have already.”

“Doubtful,” Hancock muttered.

“I’m the only one who can input the failsafe and stop Lorenzo for good. But if you had this…” Jack trailed off as he went for a plastic container attached to his belt. He clicked open the clasps and produced a syringe with a big rubber bulb on the end. One of his Z3-T4 compounds. “I only have one of these on me for emergencies, if one of you takes it, it should give you a fighting chance.”

Phoebe quailed at the needle. She never liked chems, and she liked the thought of her using any even less. It had taken her long enough to get used to the uncomfortable feeling of a stimpack sewing up open wounds, she could only imagine what the serum would feel like coursing through her veins. She gripped her Cabot rifle and took a few small steps back. She really didn’t want to, but there was no other choice, was there?

“Hand it over, I’ll watch Phoebe’s back while she turns everything back on,” Hancock said approaching Jack.

“What? No, no you don’t have to do that, Hancock, really,” Phoebe argued. He had just recovered from a soured high, surely adding this on top wouldn’t be healthy. “You were just sick, let me take it instead.”

“Nah, sister, I feel much better now, honest,” said Hancock giving her a thumbs up. “This one’s on me, I wasn’t much help earlier.”

“The serum isn’t addictive if that’s what you’re afraid of and as far as I know there are no known side effects,” reassured Jack. Phoebe didn’t feel very reassured. There was no more time to argue so she just fidgeted with her rifle as she watched Hancock roll up his sleeve and take the serum. Jack made to help, but his hands were shooed away. She couldn’t blame Hancock, she didn’t trust Jack any more than he did.

The bulb was squeezed and would take a few moments to take effect. In the meantime, Phoebe and Hancock were let into the small corridor connecting the observation room to the chamber, Lorenzo protesting the entire time. They waited for the final door to slide open, weapons at the ready when Phoebe asked Hancock if he felt any different. He said no and she couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad.

There was a _whoosh_ and the door was open. Hancock burst forth and began shooting at the nearest raiders as Phoebe scurried toward one of the four control panels. It was a simple switch flip and a great hum thrummed through the room.

“No! Don’t do this!” cried Lorenzo. He called to the raiders not fighting Hancock, “Stop her!”

In unison, four heads swivelled in her direction.

_Oh dear._

Phoebe bolted as the small mob scrambled after her. As she ran, she prepared her rifle and whirled around to fire off a shot. One raider’s legs were taken out from under him while three more jumped over raising their own guns. She was off on the run again. As she passed, she flipped another switch, only for it to be shut back down by her pursuers.

This was going to be so much more difficult than she had anticipated.

A raider caught her by the back of her combat armour and tossed her across the room like a discarded pair of socks. She landed on the floor and rolled, losing her rifle. As she tried reaching for it a hand gripped her ankle and she shrieked as she was thrown into the opposite wall. Her head cracked against the wall as she connected and she saw stars. Again.

Phoebe clutched her head as she fell to the floor. It felt as though her brain was trying to escape as it pulsated against her skull. When she opened her eyes everything was a blur. Shadows moved all around and she couldn’t tell who was friend or foe. Several shapes hurdled toward her just as a pair of blurry boots stepped in front of her. She looked up and saw red. Was it Hancock, or someone covered in his blood? She hoped to heaven it wasn’t the latter.

The shapes melded together and the sounds of fighting reached her ears. At least they were distracted.

Phoebe squinted about the chamber and spied what she believed to be another switch nearby. She got to her feet then fell back to her hands and knees as her head throbbed violently. Instead, she crawled as swiftly as she could towards the panel.

The whole way there Lorenzo protested. “Young lady, please! You don’t have to do this. I can make it worthwhile for you. I can make you live forever! Don’t listen to my wicked son.”

Phoebe faltered and squeezed her eyes shut. Did he have to be so loud?

She reached the panel and felt around until the found the switch. The humming of the machine as it came back to life buzzed in her skull and she fought the urge to throw up. She was about to crawl to the next one when someone grabbed her shoulder.

Thoughts of her head being popped off like a plastic doll’s zipped around in her mind. The hand was then wrenched from her shoulder as the person was thrown at Lorenzo’s cell. Another flash of red.

“Keep going, Pheebs!” shouted Hancock’s voice.

Phoebe nodded to no one in particular and continued her crawl. As she reached her destination Hancock called out again across the room. He had turned the switch the raiders from before had turned off back on and hers was the last one. Lorenzo was banging his fists against the glass of his prison. All the niceties were abandoned now and he was calling her all sorts of nasty things. Tough for him because that only fuelled her determination. She reached for the lever and pulled.

“Noooooo!” screamed Lorenzo as the room was engulfed in a brilliant purple light. Phoebe shielded her eyes with her arms. The Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy clicked in her ears.

When the light faded the room became uncharacteristically quiet.

Red swept across her vision again as Hancock’s face hovered not far from hers. “You alright, Pheebs?” he asked.

“Hit my head pretty good,” she said. “Did we do it? Is it done?”

“I’m thinking so.”

“Oh, good.” Phoebe blinked a couple of times trying to get her eyes to focus on Hancock’s face. “Can you stop moving, please? You’re making me dizzy.”

“I’m not—ah shit,” said Hancock. He lifted his hand. “How many fingers you see?”

Phoebe furrowed her brow then regretted it as her head throbbed. “Four, I think.”

Air hissed through Hancock’s teeth. “Yep, time to find you a doctor. A real one, not an  immortal quack that makes Grognak juice outta his dad’s blood.”

He helped her to her feet and her head swam. She tried not to lean too much weight on Hancock as she took a step forward, then nearly nosedived into the floor before he caught her.

“Mind if I carry you? It’d be better than making ya walk.”

“Huh? Oh, uh. I mean you could if I’m not too heavy.”

Hancock laughed and flashed her two smiles at the same time. “Honey, I’m basically Superman right now. Carryin’ you outta here ain’t no sweat.”

He braced her back and swept her into his arms. He didn’t so much as grunt. She wrapped her arms around his neck to keep herself somewhat upright in his arms. Heat blossomed on her cheeks and she kept from looking at his face.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

He began to walk out of the room, the momentum making her more dizzy and her head heavy. She didn’t realize how tired she was until then and Hancock was so warm. Phoebe laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the secret of Cabot house has been revealed...
> 
> MUAHAHAHAHA!! Finally, this monster of a chapter is complete, the Cabot saga is finally at an end and now for more fun adventures with Pheebs and Hancock! Admittedly I would have liked this finished a bit sooner, but such is life. I may try to set myself up with a deadline again, but we shall see.
> 
> At any rate, I am very stoked to continue this story. I got some fuckin' plans, let me tell you.
> 
> Nov. 14, 2019 - Just letting y'all know that unfortunately the next chapter will not be posted for a good long while :( I have begun important five-week field experience this week that goes toward the career that I'm studying for. I won't have much time to write much these next few weeks as I will be busy with planning etc and probably won't be free to do so until mid-December when my five weeks are up. I apologize for the inconvenience, I don't like making you wait for so long for updates, but personal life comes first. Thank you all for understanding <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first time writing a multi-chapter fic. I hope to update as regularly as possible, though work and personal life may get in the way from time to time. I hope you enjoy and would love to hear your thoughts on things!!


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